Ballad of the Masses
by bluekrishna
Summary: For those who read the Mass Symphony, this is a sort of continuation, with new characters, new challenges. Lots of fighting and feels and lemony whatnots.
1. Chapter 1

The Prologue:

"Embrace...Eternity."

_Liara stood with Shepard on the darkling plain, eyes full of wonder at how brightly she burned, far brighter than remembered after Feros in the distant past. Shepard held her close, eyes so full of sadness and whispered in her ear, 'You see."_

_The asari nodded as the metaphorical dawn swept toward them, inexorable and terrible. It would take Shepard, she knew now and leave behind the one who loved her most. The being before was sorrowful at the thoughts that flitted through Liara's mind, the memory of a rainswept hillside on this same planet where their physical bodies, far away, stood now in the rubble of the place the humans call London. An empty grave and the bowed shoulders of one turian standing before it, the stare of whom was so nakedly bereft then, and what would become of that same man now?_

_She asked it now of the being that was Shepard only in part, but was also something larger and incomprehensible. The song wound around Liara, threatening her resolve with its siren-like sweetness, she'd come with a purpose, knowing the end was near, knowing that Shepard was planning on dying in the next hour or so. She made a fist of her will and pushed the weight of the being that was Shepard's and indeed all of theirs, progenitor away, 'You owe her. You take the life she should have had. Peace, family and a home."_

_She felt monumental shame course through the atmosphere that beat down upon her, and it spoke, 'That was never meant to be. What was done must be undone.'_

_'Give her a legacy, then. Save a piece of her to continue, another chance to find peace.' It knew then what she wanted and reeled back from her, eyes wide._

_It spoke to her through the carmine lips of her oldest friend, put pain in Shepard's eyes, 'There would be no counter to balance her force. No way to ensure her purpose stay true. The temptation...'_

_Liara saw a flash of images that should befall if this...child she wanted to make of a tiny sliver of Shepard's spirit should fall to darkness. The galaxy in conflict once again, a river of blood, no one who could stand in the face of it. Liara shook her head, 'No, we will stand if it should come to pass. We will turn her purpose. She will rise.'_

_'He must never know.' No need to say who 'he' was, Liara bowed her head in acquiescence, she would never bring pain to the one who the part of this being that was called Shepard loved most with the knowledge of a living child of Shepard's spirit, if not her flesh. A child he would never be part of, whose life he could never partake in._

_And it was done, a flash of green light and Liara felt the budding of life in her, the tiniest flickering flame and she smiled a sad smile to Shepard, who was once again herself enough to tremble in the wake of the huge decision that was just made. A future dearly bought hung in the balance and yet they gambled on it again. It was a terrifying feeling, like walking on a tightrope over the abyss._

_Liara embraced her, with tears rolling down her cheeks as the meld broke. _

Shepard placed on long fingered pale palm over the asari's belly and said with a sound full of wishful longing, "Name her Susan. It was my mother's name."

Liara swallowed back the sorrow at the thought of this soldier who would sacrifice all to save them not being there to raise their child, a child that should have by all rights been Shepard's and Garrus'. Liara would have played the surrogate well, happily given them the joy they so deserved if she could. It was not to be and that made the blood rush hotly in Liara's veins, angry at the cruelties of fate and giant ephemeral spirits.

She watched that straight back as it retreated from her, the woman who burned so fiercely striding determinedly to her death. Liara felt a tickle of a thought then that perhaps it wasn't quite the end for Shepard, a hint of there being some thing, some vast happening that was going to happen and a chill rolled up her back. Some things were not meant to be known, not for them, the small of awareness. That she knew the small portion she did was almost too much, often had her wake from nightmares of the worst variety, all grotesque shadows and voices and crushing pressure.

Liara sighed deeply as she saw Garrus walk past the door, clearly looking for Shepard, the final push for the beam must be nigh. Her heart ached for them, and for the secret she now carried.

* * *

She watched that fire on the hill, with its lone figure reclined near it and felt weariness settle over her. He was so hurt, that armored turian out there, and he refused to see that they were all suffering, a thing he'd never been blind to before and that frightened her, frightened her badly. Kaidan followed the line of her gaze, as did all in the small camp in the shadow of the downed Normandy. He nudged her with a small tight grimace, saying the words they were all thinking, "He's hurting."

"I know. And I don't know what to do about it." Liara hugged herself in the firelight. She'd been in the woods, had seen the trees with their bark in tatters.

Javik touched her elbow and she smiled at him, this ancient prothean who was so endearingly...hands-y now that his shell of bitterness was broken, "I believe it would be a mistake to go to him now, it would only anger him further."

James took a drink of the bourbon that Chakwas reluctantly parted with, "He needs time. And space."

Tali sighed, poking at their fire with a stick, "Then we'll give it to him. Just make sure we got eyes on him around the clock, so he doesn't..."

Joker snorted, bitterly, "We don't even know if she's dead yet, I don't think Garrus is going to jump the gun until he sees the actual body."

Liara huddled further into her own arms, bringing her knees up to her chest to hide the pain in her face. She closed her eyes to the puzzled look on Javik's face, shaking her head slightly.

Kaidan sighed, "I wish the relays were up already. Ship's ready to go, now we're just waiting on those damn things up there to finish whatever the hell they're doing."

Tali made a noise and said with worry in her voice, "Isn't it a bit odd that the Reapers are fixing the relays? I wonder if we lost."

"If we did, then we might as well stay here." James said, looking up into the sky, peering like he could see the relay and its swarming shadows.

EDI's voice came to them over Kaidan's omnitool, "I have re-established communication with the fleet."

That news had everyone on their feet with cries of incredulity, and expressions of hope, Kaidan said, "What's the news, EDI?"

"They say the Reapers are fleeing through the relays, to where they don't know. The fleets are still massed at Earth, waiting for the relay network to be up and running. It appears that we have won." She was drowned out by cheers and laughter as the crew danced around and embraced one another. Liara saw that grey figure on the hill turn to them and then swing back to regard the fire and sighed at his apparent lack of interest. EDI continued, "There is a large packet of backlogged messages for the crew and for, as they put it, 'whoever the hell they have in charge over there.' "

Kaidan looked at the far fire that the person who should be leading them was sitting at and said, "That'd be me. Send them to my OT."

There were messages for nearly all of them, most just requests for updates and manifests of casualties and the first rudimentary plans to get back home. Liara froze her screen on one small entry, a recording from Shepard's omnitool mere seconds before the blast that had shipwrecked them on this planet and saw that it was encoded for a certain turians' ears only. She leaned over and tapped Kaidan on the shoulder, showing it to him.

Kaidan started as he realized what it was and shot a look up there, where that same turian was even now brooding alone. He flicked his finger at the message and sent it to Garrus through EDI and then said with a wince, standing, "I'm going to bed. Comms are up for any of you who want to talk to somebody, we'll take off tomorrow and see what's what."

Only Javik and Liara remained as the rest scattered to bed or the ship, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of Garrus as he seemed to go mad up there for a moment, standing and throwing things into his fire, probably not aware at all how his growls carried to them on the night air. She felt his anger on her skin like a hot wind and tears rolled down her face, not sure what could be done for him, that great heart that used to move for them all, oh how it was being wounded now.

Javik pulled her to his chest and rumbled a comforting sound of understanding, and with one last look to that hill, she let him lead her to a tent, where she slept fitfully.

* * *

It was hard to let Garrus go alone onto that fueling depot, but how were they to stop him? He'd made his decision clear, would brook no more meddling into his affairs and they stood aside, with their love for him in their eyes, it was really all they could do. She thought of the look in his eyes as she'd reached for him and the words had almost escaped her, she'd almost broken her word, her heart hammering away in her chest at the sheer cold fury she'd seen in Garrus' eyes. The words were stilled by Tali, who was so wise with her plea, who was the one who had finally brought a touch of the compassion back to the turian's eyes. A compassion that they all knew should be there instead of this awful anger he seemed possessed by.

Months passed, and Liara read her reports with tentative hope that her friend would be okay. Garrus worked, worked like a madman for the people of the galaxy and seemed to find some satisfaction in it. Sitting in her villa on Thessia, she reached a hand down to the burgeoning bump of her belly, tilting her head to hear the soft melody of the tiny life in her. She worried that the gestation seemed a bit far along for an asari's usual 16 months of pregnancy, but when she'd had her specialists go over the scans, they found nothing abnormal about the baby, it was just larger than most, more developed at 6 months in the womb.

Liara sipped her tea and sighed, putting the datapad down for now and hummed along with her baby, feeling it coil around her mind with joy. A movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention. Javik, wearing loose clothes of linen, slid the glass door on her balcony open and walked out, sureness and confidence in his step. She'd always admired that about him, how very sure he was no matter what. It was an enviable talent that she'd learned only through experience. He, on the other hand, seemed born with it.

The prothean sat at her side and took her hand, a pleased smile on his face as he took in her swelling abdomen. His other hand came out to rest on it and he hummed deep in his throat. Liara smiled at him warmly and he laughed in his deep voice, "What shall we name her? Asalia, Jadrika, Meynoir?"

Liara shook her head at her mate, saying gently because she'd never told him the truth, "Her name will be Susan."

He started back, a frown scoring deep lines in his face as he took in her sad smile. He snatched his hand from her, "A...human name?"

She nodded, watching Javik carefully. Stormclouds were brewing in his eyes as they took her in and she felt a pang of shame in her chest for what she was about to do, "You're not the father, Javik."

He drew away from her with a hiss, a devastated flicker in his eyes. "Who?"

She shook her head again and he seemed tumescent in his rage as he said again, voice low and deadly, "Who?"

Her silence rocked him, she could see and he stood, cold and distant, his face empty except for his eyes, which looked at her in wounded pain and she shut her eyes to them, feeling so very heartless for this...cruelty she was dealing him, no matter that it was necessary.

When she dared open her eyes again, he was gone and she knew that he was gone from the house, gone from her life and she wept in silence as she sat alone on that balcony.

* * *

"How long?" She trembled in the wake of learning that her daughter had been born with a genetic disease, a rare one that would make her age faster, much faster than she ought. She held the bundle to her chest, looking down into that pale blue face with love and fear.

The doctor laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, "two maybe three hundred years."

"So soon?" Her voice was soft and tremulous as she thought of all the time that had been stolen from her. Liara would far out live her daughter. She sobbed a small sob at the thought. Susan, who seemed to know that her mother was in pain, opened pale, pale green eyes in the hospital room they were staying in and set up a wail of her own with strong healthy lungs and Liara bent her head down to the infant, "Shh shhh, it's okay."

The nurses and doctor seemed startled that so loud a sound could come from so small a child and Liara couldn't help but laugh at the sight of three asari faces pulled in identical expressions of surprise and the bundle in her arms chortled as well to her delight. It seemed her child was going to be a capricious one. She smiled at the little girl who watched her with laughing eyes so like the ones of her departed friend and touched her face gently with one blue hand, "Susan T'soni, you will be a wonder. And if the shorter lived races can still live full lives, then so can you, my little wing."

Years then passed and Liara watched her daughter grow with joy. She studied reports as she sat on her balcony, the sound of Susan playing adding a sense of calm to her mind. There would soon be a new council in play, now that the old one had fled. The fighting was bitter out there in the Terminus, she doubted the new primarch knew just how close to disaster they'd all been and how she'd had to intervene from time to time to keep it all balanced. She was the one who'd talked them into consolidating their power, the disparate factions of the Terminus systems, they'd almost been overrun by the ousted councilors and their merc armies.

Even now, she thought of Garrus, whose stern countenance had been broadcasted in the wake of his promotion to primarch. She'd searched those blue eyes for some sign that her friend was still in there, and if not for the things, the wonderful things he'd already accomplished, then she would be even more worried.

Her omnitool pinged, telling her she had a visitor. Checking her side arm, she picked up Susan and rested her on her hip, smiling as the child laughed at being hoisted up in the air. She palmed the lock on her front door, ready for anything.

Almost anything, that is. She almost dropped Susan in shock as she took in the form of Javik, standing awkwardly on her doorstep, looking at her from under lowered eyelids, gaze flicking from her to Susan. Liara swallowed as the prothean opened his mouth, only to shut it again. She cleared her throat, heart jumping in her chest, "Would...would you like to come in?"

He nodded gratefully and followed her into the living room. Susan watched him solemnly as she sucked a thumb and he couldn't seem to pull his gaze from her. Liara sat in a chair and shooed her daughter away, "Go play in your room, Susan."

Javik winced as he took a seat on her sofa, watching the small child as she ran upstairs until she was out of sight. Then he turned to Liara, who was watching him sort out his thoughts. He took a deep breath and said, as though he were imparting some horrible secret, "I...have missed you, Liara."

Her heart thumped painfully, "I have...missed you as well. Where did you go?"

"I traveled for a time. There is much happening out there, I thought I would find a place for me in it." Javik shook his head and shrugged, "But it is hard for me to understand these races, and their motivations. Once they found out I was prothean, they expected me to have all the answers."

She smiled and teased gently, "You don't?"

He shot her a look that was three parts consternation and one part amusement and continued, growling, "I found I could not stop thinking about...you. About us."

She watched him flounder in his mixed emotions and reached out to touch his hand, pouring the warmth of her feelings toward him into her eyes, "Will you stay?"

Javik shuddered under her hand and she could only guess that he was feeling the truth of what she felt through the contact and he sighed, eyes closing for a moment, "Yes, I will stay."

Liara sighed in relief, then said with trepidation, "About Susan..."

"I know." Javik speared her with a look of understanding.

'"You...know." She echoed softly.

"You think I can not feel it? It is everywhere in this house, fills up all the spaces." He looked at her with a touch of fear in his eyes, "It is dangerous, she will need strong guardians. Why did you do this thing, Liara?"

Liara sat back and thought, "Because Shepard deserved a legacy, because all she ever got in return for her love was pain and death."

"Because you loved her." Javik sighed at her nod, "And what of the turian?"

"He must not know. It would only bring him more pain." She thought of Garrus, alone on his planet with its beach and waves. Javik leaned toward her, his musky earthy scent filling her nostrils and she felt blood rush to her face as she saw the naked want in the prothean's stare.

"It would be a shame for such a child to grow alone. Should we not...rectify that?" He chuckled darkly into her eyes, reaching for her with eagerness that was returned sevenfold and Liara cast aside her worries for the time being and gave in to her desires.

* * *

Marcus put his hand over that still chest, wishing there was a beating heart still under there. His kind uncle, who always had time to show him new things, incredible things about shooting, about life, lay on the raised dais, dead and cold. His mother keened softly behind him where she and his father embraced each other in their grief. His siblings were also near, watching him solemnly as he said his last goodbyes to a great man, who all these people, these hundreds of people, had come to pay their last respects to. His hand drifted over the scars on that mandible, he'd always been curious but had never asked, now he would never get the chance to.

He was twelve and this was his second real encounter with death, the second time mortality had hit home for him in his short life and it left him cold and shaken. His only consolation the smile that seemed permanently affixed on that beloved face, his uncle must have been happy at the end, which was...good. He'd never seemed quite happy when he'd come to Palaven those years ago, in fact had seemed so very sad in unguarded moments. So that now at his end, he found joy made an answering joy fill Marcus, mixing with the melancholy of being here to see him off.

He stood back to let his siblings say goodbye and stood by his mother, who dropped a trembling hand onto his shoulder. He squeezed it in reassurance, trying to soothe her pain. He knew that she felt awkward in this huge place, among all these people, it wasn't the turian way of doing things. Pain and loss were meant to be discreet affairs, private. He sighed and looked around, saw the ones the stories had been about in the first few rows of this...cathedral in space. All the old crew of the Normandy were present and they all smiled at him as they met his eyes, saying words he couldn't catch to each other softly.

One, the one he assumed was Jack, if the descriptions his uncle had told him were accurate stood and marched to the podium, her stride swift and sure, her UAF uniform crisp. She stood before the assembled masses and Marcus saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, just a flash then her jaw hardened and her mouth opened, "I remember when I first met Garrus. I thought he was a mess, someone had just blown half his face off with a rocket and he was pretty shaken up, maybe by more than just a rocket, but he pulled through and we kicked those Collector assholes straight to hell."

Her vulgar words prompted a laugh from the surrounding people and Marcus smiled a bit to hear it and so did she as she continued, "I remember thinking that he was a bit soft, no matter how many heads he exploded with his rifle. He was a damn good shot. But he always had good stuff to say, stuff that made me think that I was worth a damn. He and Shepard were always telling us that and after awhile, we started believing it. I think we all started believing it and it made us better. I for one don't know where I'd be without them, probably in some gutter somewhere with my guts on the outside. Or still in cryo in some prison, it all goes to show you that you never know what's going to happen."

She turned to the body of Garrus Vakarian and snorted, "Wherever you are, I hope you're getting a big laugh out of this. This is for you, buddy."

Marcus watched her take a deep breath and her mouth opened, and a sound pure and sweet came from her throat as she started to sing, "_Tis the last rose of summer...left blooming alone..."_

The song tugged at his heart, its sonorous sound breaking over him as he listened intently. It was sad and beautiful and it reminded him of when his uncle played his corio for them, that last spring they'd visited, only a few short weeks before he'd died and it made Marcus' throat tighten in grief. A humming grabbed his attention and he turned his head to see an asari child just behind him, watching him as he watched her hum along with the song that filled this vast room. He almost gaped in astonishment when the pitch of the song emanating from the child changed so she was smoothly humming harmonies.

His eyes snapped back to the front as the song drew to a close, "_..When true hearts lie withered and fond ones are flown. Oh who would inhabit this bleak world alone? This bleak world alone."_

That woman up there, who despite all her piercings and tattoos and hard exterior, had just showed them all a heart that was soft and human, discreetly wiped a few tears away before leaving the podium, almost throwing herself into the arms of her waiting comrades, who embraced her as one.

The gathering broke up and the adults all went to mingle in the courtyard of this vessel, which wasn't a proper ship at all. Had been designed as a sort of floating cemetery to house the honored dead. Marcus looked up into the starfield above them and its flickering mass effect field keeping the oxygen from escaping and sighed deeply, flexing his mandibles to stretch them from their cramped position.

"You're very tall." A voice said to him from the vicinity of his elbow. He looked down into laughing green eyes framed by a blue face. The asari that was humming.

He frowned and replied dryly, "You're very short."

She laughed and clapped her hands together once and he felt a smile tug at his mandible at her infectious mirth. Then he remembered where they were and schooled himself back into seriousness. His brothers and sisters all came toward him in one big group and stopped to stare at this stranger in their midst. Marcus said, to the asari girl they were eyeballing, "I'm Marcus Vakarian. These are my siblings, Damalia, Paulus, Inigo and Lucia."

"I'm Susan. Susan T'soni. Dr. Liara T'soni is my mother." She nodded to each as they watched her, "I am pleased to meet you all."

Lucia, the youngest, was the only one short enough to look at her eye to eye and smiled, already a beauty at seven years of age, the silvery planes of her face delicate and angular, "We are pleased to meet you too."

Paulus asked, his tone curious, "How old are you, Susan T'soni?"

"I'm twelve." She laughed at their incredulous faces.

Inigo, the tactless one, opened his mouth and Marcus cringed inwardly, "Why are you so puny?"

Susan laughed delightedly, much to his surprise, "Because I'm asari, silly. I grow slower because I live longer."

"But Wrex's kids are as big as us, and fatter." Damalia said, her voice almost petulant with doubt. Marcus shot his insufferable sister a look that quieted her down.

"I know right? It's so not fair. But them's the breaks, as the humans say." The asari sighed and smiled at them, then her gaze was drawn past them and Marcus turned to see an elegant older asari beckoning, presumably to Susan and heard her say, "Well, I got to go. It was nice to meet you."

Marcus swung his gaze back around to those dancing green eyes and said, "The same. We'll see you around."

"I'm sure." Came the slightly sarcastic response as the asari walked away. Marcus watched her until she and her mother and two other small asari were out of sight, bemused, but not quite sure why.

Paulus bumped him with an elbow, smiling when Marcus turned a frown on him. Damalia said, in a tone that bordered on snide, "What kind of name is Susan, anyway? Doesn't sound asari to me."

Marcus shrugged non commitally and sighed when this didn't seem to assuage his volatile sister, who wouldn't drop the subject until their parents called them to join them at the aircars. His thoughts were also on their mysterious new acquaintance, pondering everything he'd seen that day. Picking it apart for possible meanings like he'd been taught to by his uncle. A mystery, he loved mysteries.


	2. Chapter 2

He was twenty-six and death was no longer a stranger to him. He danced with it, he dealt it, it had become a friend to him.

'_Breathe.' _He heard his uncle's voice whisper in his memory as he squeezed the trigger again and again, reloading lightning fast to bring the next head into view. The pirates below his nest scattered before the onslaught of his team. _His_ team, the thought made a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He'd just gotten his own team, his own ship even, one of the small Mark II's that had replaced the old Raptors. Idly, he watched his soldiers clear out the rest of them now that the rocket launchers had been taken out.

His chest swelled with pride as he watched his brother, Paulus, unload his entire shotgun payload into one pirate. His brother, who he'd tapped as soon as he found out he was going out here with his own team, he was the reckless brilliance to Marcus' careful tact, the fire to his ice and they made a fantastic team in and of themselves, but they couldn't do it all, hence the rest of their team. They were fast making a name for themselves in the Vagabonds, with their devastatingly successful attacks on this large criminal organization.

He stood as the last red dot on his visor winked out, marking the unfortunate end of these pirates who'd grappled with what they thought was a damaged cargo freighter, but was in fact a trap, they found out to their dismay. Slowly, carefully, he wandered through the corridors and checked every body there, double tapping them with his pistol as he went to make sure. In his mind, the memory of the first assignment he'd ever been on reared its ugly head, he'd been careless and they'd almost died, he and his brother and that_, that_ was unforgivable. They wouldn't be flanked by these particular pirates.

"You keep stealing my kills, Marcus." Paulus chided as he came upon the group that waited for him at the airlock.

"Well, if you didn't insist on being only ten feet from them before you shoot them, maybe I wouldn't need to. That assault rifle on your back is starting to gather dust." Marcus thumped his brother on the chest armor, noting with pride how the emblem of their unit lay there, still shiny and new. "Why do you even have it if you're not going to use it?"

"For looks, of course. Nothing grabs the ladies' attention like being fully _armed _and ready to go." His brother grinned and flexed for the one female on their team, vulgarly thrusting his hips. Another turian, she looked on with amusement. Marcus caught her eye and rolled his comically which prompted a chiming laugh from her, which, although he didn't show it in any way, caused his heart to flutter madly. His brother continued, "Whaddya think, Aleia? Hot or not?"

"Not, Paulus. Definitely not." She shook her angular head on her long, graceful neck. She was dark, almost chocolatey in color with pale elegant stripes on her face and shoulders, which were exposed in the light armor she chose to wear today. Purplish light still flickered around her form, the afterimage of the biotic shield she had on for battle. His mouth dried and he looked away from her shapely collarbones.

Marcus laughed lightly at the downcast look on his brother's face and said with cheer, "Don't worry, Paulus. The girls at Omega will love you no matter how armed you are. So long as you got creds enough to keep them happy."

"True, true, how bout you, Sanders? Up for a game of Skyllian-Five?" Paulus draped an arm over their engineer, an older human male with a vicious scar that ran the length of his face from the corner of his mouth well into his hairline, giving him a twisting smile that with a few twitches became a leer of greed.

"You're not tired of losing your money yet?" The human laughed, "You ain't got cunning enough to take me."

"Someday, Ralph. Someday I'll know all your little tricks and then we'll see who takes whose money."

The salarian specialist on their team followed bemusedly in their wake, shaking his pronged head, "Gambling seems a waste of resources. Resources we could be using for mods and upgrades."

Sanders waved his hand dismissively, "Lighten up, Ergot. Unwind once in a while, it'd be good for you."

Marcus smiled into the salarian's disapproving eyes, "It's true, old man. Now let's get some drinks, first round's on me."

They cheered as he led them back into their ship and he dropped his kit in the lockers where they'd be serviced by the mech they had for that purpose and Marcus ran up into the cockpit where his pilot was blasting music and thumping the console with his fingers, keeping rhythm with the violent beats. He reached over and muted it and the quarian scrambled in surprise, mask an impenetrable fog, then the pilot settled back with a sigh, "How'd it go, LT?"

"Good, good, five pirate ships are space dust. That's a good week's work, I think. Time to treat the boys to some shore leave on Omega." He nodded to the map on the console and watched those gloved fingers fly over the controls, "Kinz, how's Ushal liking the new ride?"

"Ask him yourself." The quarian gestured to the bright orb that was nestled in the ship's AI input socket.

A male voice rolled over them smoothly from the comms above, "I like it very well. The ship is fast, it is a good fit. It does not fight me like that old cruiser did."

"You sure you don't want a shell, too? I'm sure I can get us one." Marcus passed a hand over his fringe, feeling slightly guilty for recruiting this piloting team out from under his old commander's craggy hump, but not enough to warrant giving them back. They were a great team and they were being wasted in the armada. This is where they should be, on the frontiers, doing valuable work.

"I have no desire to go on ground missions with you, CO Vakarian. My abilities are more suited to flying this ship with Creator Kinz'atol." The geth in his ship asserted and Marcus nodded, relenting the point. He had a fine crew already, well rounded, ready for anything.

* * *

Omega was still a dung heap, or rather from the stories he'd heard from before the Unification, it didn't seem much different. There was refuse piled in every corner, it stank of too many bodies crammed together with not enough air filtration. He wondered briefly if the CO2 scrubbers were down, surely they'd fix that, wouldn't they? It would mean certain death to leave something like that unfixed.

Marcus moved in that practiced swagger that screamed merc to any who happened to notice their little party wandering around the station. His armor was a mismatched ragtag mix of older models, or at least that's what it looked like. It was deadly effective for all its obvious flaws. His whole squad was decked out in this fashion, from an outsider's point of view they would probably seem to be a small street gang looking to get hired as a group. They'd gotten quite a few leads in exactly that way.

Afterlife was booming and they made their way over to a private booth, ordering drinks on the way. Asari dancers writhed on the dance floor directly opposite of him and he watched them for a moment over the rim of his drink, always surprised at how flexible they were. His brother and Sanders were arguing about gun stats, they both favored the shotgun over any other weapon but they didn't agree at all on what mods to use, what ammo. Paulus turned to him and said, mandibles flicking in annoyance, "What do you think, Marcus? Cryo or AP?"

"I think Ralph should stick with his turrets and you should actually use special ammo once in a while, instead of forgetting to switch." He smiled to defuse his harsh words as his brother ducked his head in chagrin. Ergot snorted a laugh, which caused some of his drink to come out of his nose, much to the amusement of everyone at the table.

Marcus smiled as he watched them, his brilliant soldiers as they laughed and drank. They were his and he would kill for each and every one of them, unto his last breath. The female next to him shifted and he, while seeming completely lost in the sight of the dancers, was very aware of her gaze as it swung to him. Aleia's voice rolled over him and he suppressed a shudder, "The dancers are very good, aren't they?"

He nodded dumbly, swallowing back a knot in his throat as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Her mandibles were slightly stretched in amusement as she looked back at him, her elbows on the table before her, hands holding the slim neck of her glass, it's shimmering green liquid sloshing slightly from one side to another. She sighed and leaned back, arching her back slightly, which made his mouth suddenly parched like a desert and he took a large gulp of his drink, trying to bring back some moisture, anything to keep his tongue from sticking to the roof of his mouth as it seemed suddenly to want to do.

She leaned toward him to purr, "You think I should go up there? I wonder if I could be just as good."

He closed his eyes at the erotic imagery that pounded through his vivid imagination, and suppressed a groan as his lower plates shifted just a bit. He cleared his throat before responding, "I, uh, think you'd be better."

She laughed delightedly and he flushed under his plates to hear that clear sweet sound, "What a...politic response. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were just humoring me."

He shook his head in a negative, words abandoning him in the wake of his desire. She touched his leg under the table and even though he couldn't feel it through his armor, he swore that a heated tingling originated from that spot to travel up his thigh to where his loosening plates loosened even further and he had to squirm a bit to adjust his lower armor to accommodate his emerging manhood. She smiled wickedly as she watched him lose even this small measure of control and the blood rushed through his veins at the arousal in her sky blue eyes.

She leaned even closer and he smelled her intoxicating perfume, a musk of woodsy pine and spices. He gulped reflexively as she filled his whole field of vision, her voice a throaty velvet tingle on his skin, "Maybe we should go back to the ship...?"

Marcus stood abruptly, almost upending the table, much to his own embarrassment. Paulus watched him knowingly as he made his exit, with Aleia in tow, a laugh on his lips. The couple made their way out, threading through the crowds of partygoers and predators who watched them leave with a speculative glance, he snarled at them and their gazes drifted on, looking for better targets, easier targets than two obviously armed and armored soldiers.

She flew at him in the airlock, scrabbling for the seals on his armor and he lapped at her neck, his hands everywhere, touching every part of her that was exposed. She groaned into his neck and he hissed as he felt her teeth dig into him just a little, but his blood was pounding now and nothing was going to stop him from having her.

They made it to his small cabin and flopped in a heap onto his cot, limbs tangling in their fervor. His armor flew off now that they were both working on it, scattered to every corner followed by her clothes. Soon they were blessedly naked and she reached down to tug on his cock, making him arch into her uncontrollably with a loud groan at her neck. He ran his hands over her plates, wonderingly, they were so silky, as silky as the first time they'd done this and he stopped to relish it every time. She was so beautiful under him, with her angles and curves and her mouth half open in a pant of desire.

His blood raged to take her and he ran his hand down to the junction of her thighs, where her plates were just barely open. He teased the tender flesh there with his fingers, running one blunt talon around the edge, making her quiver in need. He knelt down and flicked her opening with a slow swipe of his tongue, smiling to hear her moan wantonly. He ran his flexible tongue around her lower plates before plunging it in, past the plates, into the molten hot core of her and she arched under his other hand where it rested on her plated belly and his eyes rolled back up into his head at the taste of her, like ozone and musk.

He massaged her flesh as he slowly devoured her, making her gasp in ecstasy. He met her gaze with all his intense desire for her just as she peaked and she writhed on the cot. Unable to wait any more, he rose over her and plunged into that place that had so recently held his tongue and cried out at the feeling of her depths gripping him, the plates at the outset of her opening pleasantly rubbing the underside of his shaft as he moved in and out of her. He was trying to hold out for as long as he could when he felt her hands come up and grip him by the waist almost painfully and he bucked without restraint over her at how sinfully erotic the feeling was. Her talons dug in and he cried out above her as he felt his issue leave him in a glorious rush of pleasure. Limply, he let her flip them and she rode him hard, taking her pleasure from him almost violently, her eyes glittering in the low light of his bunk.

The tip of his cock was so sensitive, it was driving him mad. Helplessly, he held her around the waspish waist and she hissed with approval, so he gripped her tighter and she threw her head back as she bounced on him, soft cries flying out of her mouth. She tilted her face back down at him and moaned, "More. Harder."

He panted as he started delving roughly into her from below, gripping her waist even tighter, feeling the climax just out of reach as he pounded her ruthlessly. Her hands clawed at his sides and he grimaced at the pain that was also driving him on to even greater heights of pleasure and returned the favor, digging his talons into her sides cruelly. She cried out loudly and quivered, calling out his name in her fulmination and hearing it, he swiftly followed, almost biting his tongue in half as the waves of heat broke over him, leaving him a shaking wreck, utterly without a thought to spare for anything other than the glorious creature that was even now collapsing onto his chest.

He sighed as his heart swelled, feeling her closeness like this. The shape of her nestled against him. She echoed his sigh as his member slowly retracted from her and he rumbled at her affectionately, nipping her mandibles, rubbing his hands all along her back plates soothingly. She relaxed into him and was soon asleep. He watched her face relax out of the corner of his eye and his heart thumped with more than just the effort of their physical activity.

He was twenty-six and he was pretty sure that he was in love.


	3. Chapter 3

She was twenty-six and had finally talked her mother into letting her join the Unified Armed Forces.

Her mother had been reluctant, very reluctant and vocal about it. And her reasons...vague, incomplete. It was infuriating, but when had her mother not been infuriatingly vague, especially about the dreams and the music. Just that sad knowing smile to every question, every probe into the mysterious circumstances of her birth. All those lessons in music and music theory, Susan loved them but they seemed a yoke that her mother was trying to put around her neck. Like she was being steered away from other options and of course, like any rebellious child, she'd balked. She fought containment and her mother finally relented with a weary sigh, as she had so many times when it came to her stubborn eldest daughter.

At least now she looked like an adult, she'd felt like one since she was twenty, but had only looked twelve, another infuriating thing about herself that she didn't understand. Her sisters were still little more than toddlers, they were genetically typical of the asari race, which seemed to relieve her mother to no end. Susan had never asked why this was, felt somehow that the fault was in herself and shied away from consciously knowing it.

And the man who called himself her father, who she knew was not in some deep way, tried to help, tried to be there for her in that capacity, but it felt like interference and intrusion, no matter how much she tried to banish the feeling for his sake. She could never force 'father' past her lips easily and saw how it hurt him, how it almost frightened him and wondered at it. No, she needed some normalcy away from the life of the Shadow Broker and the life of the Last Prothean. Somewhere where their every action didn't make such huge ripples in her life.

And so, she would get away, the only way she knew how, with the only other talent she had. Even Javik said she had potential, had laughed when she'd asked where the talent came from. 'All asari are biotics' was all he would say. She heard the truth in it, even though it hadn't been a whole truth. So she trained, with him and others whose silence could be bought, planned her escape with all the subtlety that she learned from her mother and all the ruthlessness she learned from Javik.

The mirror showed her in a uniform, the first one she'd pulled from the bag she'd gotten after enlisting and she had to say, despite her tiny stature and too young face, she looked good. Her body had blossomed over the last two summers and she had relished the shopping for new clothes, finally feeling her age, the age she was in her mind. Her pale blue skin shone with a turquoise luster and her pale, almost icy green eyes stared back at her with a touch of consternation, not a typical asari color combination and one she lamented as setting her apart.

As the airbus rolled up to take her to boot camp, she embraced her mother and the man her mother loved warmly, gave her sisters a kiss on the head each and merrily rode away from home for the first time ever, waving to them through the windows, ignoring the pang of loss in her heart. She'd visit, she'd send messages, then it would be okay. Then she could forgive herself the heartbreak she'd seen in her mother's face. The heartbreak of a bird flown the nest.

The other recruits watched her solemnly as she sat in the back of the bus, strapping herself in for the rough ride through the atmosphere. There was a cruiser up there she knew, had been told of, that would take her to Tuchanka, where they would all learn the trade of soldiery in the parts of the planet that were still rubble. Maybe she'd see Uncle Wrex, or maybe not, actually she hoped not the more she thought about it. It would be yet another thing to set her apart, make her different.

Another asari dropped in next to her, holding out a hand, "Kala."

"Susan." She shook that hand firmly, smiling at the bold one who talked to her.

"Huh. Human dad?" That dark blue face asked her, searching for some sign of it in her.

"Possibly." She said cryptically, with a wiggle of her brows. The other asari laughed and clapped her hands, drawing a stern eye from the pilot.

"Those crazy maiden days."

"I wouldn't know...yet." They laughed together easily and Susan smiled at her new friend, who was looking out the window at the cruiser they were approaching with something like awe. "It's the Apollo, used to be Alliance."

Kala looked at her out of the corner of her eye, "How do you know that?"

Susan looked mysterious for a moment, milking the moment, then cracked a smile, "I asked."

They laughed again, and the pilot barked at them to shut up and they subsided, with meaningful glances at each other, suppressing giddy little giggles.

She was twenty-six and it finally felt like her life was starting.

* * *

"What is that?"

"It's called Dark Channeling, I learned it from my, uh, dad." She ducked her head as the lie found its way past her lips, wincing a little, "You should see what happens when you hit this thing with a warp or throw, shit goes BOOM!"

"Nice, I'll keep my eye out for it when we're in the field. Hey, did you see that massive krogan they had over in Camp Bravo?" Kala lowered her voice conspiratorially, "They say he used to be on the Normandy."

Susan thought about it for a moment as she let the glow of her biotics slowly dissipate, everyone knew Wrex, his craggy profile was immediately recognized, so Kala must mean Grunt. The only other krogan to serve on the Normandy with Shepard, according to the stories her mother told. "What about him?"

"They say he's recruiting for his squad, you know, Aralakh Company. They're the best ground pounders around." There was an eager gleam in Kala's eyes as she thought about this and Susan felt a touch of trepidation at the idea that Kala would leave their unit, just as they graduated.

"I thought you were going to go flight," said Susan, not saying the rest which was along the lines of '_we were going to go for it together.'_

Guilt colored her friend's cheeks as she took in the slightly admonishing tone and said in a rush, "I know, but I wouldn't say no if I was asked, Susie. Hey, wanna come out to the mess tent later? There's going to be another meeting."

"I don't know..." These meetings bothered her a bit. She'd been to one or two, it was mostly sitting around listening to Shepard's music and then discussing what it all means. Sometimes she saw a light in their eyes that made a chill roll up her back, "I don't even know why you want to go to those things."

"I...just feel better for it, you know? Like I'm feeling something...outside." Kala was showing a bit of that light in her eyes now and it made Susan very uncomfortable and she shifted nervously.

"No...I think I'll pass." She demurred, trying not to see the disappointment in her friend's eyes. "I got those reports to write up for Sarge."

Kala shook her head, "It's kinda shitty that you have to do all the paperwork for that illiterate krogan."

Susan gasped, "Sarge isn't illiterate, he just doesn't know how to conjugate verbs very well."

"How hard can it be to write stab, stabbed, stabbing, honestly?" Kala rolled her eyes and Susan laughed. Her friend stood fluidly and walked out with a bounce in her step, tossing back over her shoulder, "Don't wait up for me."

"Do I ever?" Susan replied dryly, smiling behind her hand.

* * *

Morning muster was a standard affair. It didn't escape her notice that Kala had never come back to their tent after the meeting. Or that her face paint was just a little smudged. She must have found company at that meeting and after searching the ranks, Susan found a male human with just a tiny white smear of paint on one cheek. She fought a grin at her incorrigible bunkmate, who rolled her eyes back at Susan, a hint of chagrin on that dark blue face.

Susan's eyes were dragged front when the whole platoon stood to attention. Their LT was up there, talking to the huge hulking shape of a krogan, whose blue eyes swept the ranks with sharp clarity, spearing every soldier that dared make eye contact with him. Susan locked his gaze with hers and held it, not willing to give in to that will she saw in the heart of those slit pupilled eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, that krogan nodded almost imperceptibly and his regard moved on, much to her secret relief. There was an intimidating amount of focus in those baby blues and it was quite a thing to stand before it unfazed.

The krogan straightened up and instantly had everyone's attention, grinding out in his deep voice, "I am Grunt, leader of Aralakh Company and we need fresh blood. We took a big hit on some damn jungle planet out in the middle of the ass end of space. Be warned, if you're invited to join our little party, you'll be knee deep in the shit within a week. I don't need cowards, or weaklings, so if you have the quad, step forward now and let me see you."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kala step forward and after a moment's hesitation, she stepped forward, too. Maybe they'd get chosen together, was her hope. Kala was really the only one she connected with here, or anywhere really. It was pretty sad to realize that she only had one friend and her cheeks burned with her embarrassment.

She watched Grunt walk through the ranks, stopping at every soldier who'd taken that one step into the circle of his regard. Soon she was eye to eye again with Grunt, her neck craned back to meet his gaze as he looked down at her. She forced herself to calmly look back at him as those blue orbs narrowed and that craggy head tilted like he was listening to something. His rough voice rolled out of him, "Why did you hesitate?"

She thought carefully before answering, going for bald truth, "Uncertainty."

The krogan frowned at her, "I don't need uncertainty either or little girls who will likely piss themselves and run away. How old are you, little girl?"

She felt anger rising in her and suppressed it with difficulty. Her emotions had always been easily roused, control was a thing she'd worked hard on, but often didn't succeed at, and her voice rolled out of her low and deadly, "Old enough to know how to kill."

She heard the intake of many breaths around her and realized that her tone of voice could be construed as a threat and there was a long moment when she thought Grunt might launch himself at her and silently readied herself for a beating. She vowed to give as good as she got as she waited for the first blow to fall. Grunt surprised her with a loud guffaw, clapping her shoulder with enough force that she almost fell to the side, "HA! Now that's what I'm talking about. This girl has a quad. Go stand over there."

She shuffled out of line and stood shoulder to shoulder with the other candidates, most of whom were big burly krogan themselves and they kept glancing at her sidelong. She kept her eyes forward and grimaced as each following soldier out there in the ranks failed to qualify for this honor. Soon all the ranks had been sorted and there was still no Kala standing next to her, she despaired when the formation was dismissed and she saw the retreating back of her friend, shoulders stiff with some emotion she couldn't decipher.

Why had she stepped forward? She cursed herself for her impetuosity, if she'd stayed in rank and file, she'd be out there consoling her friend as they walked back to their tent. Then, next week or the week after, they'd have applied for flight training together and gotten some support job on a cruiser somewhere in council space. That was the plan, why did she have to go changing it?

Grunt came to stand before them, "Your things, you won't need. Where we're going, mud gets into everything so the less you have, the less mud you'll end up carrying. Move out!"

They were marched into a shuttle and she sat near the back, her mind a mess of broody thoughts. She wasn't so out of it that she didn't notice a certain krogan commander eyeballing her from up front, though and shut it all out as she pulled out her omnitool, typing a quick apology to Kala and a message to her mother to let her know which company she'd joined. No doubt the Shadow Broker already knew, she thought wryly, but still, it would be a token of her regard to let her know herself.

* * *

Everyone else got to be knee deep in the shit, she got to be hip deep in the shit. Her mouth twisted downwards wryly as she held her pack over her head to keep it out of the swampy water she was currently wading through. It dragged at her and she fought to move through it as easily as everyone around her was doing. The krogan moved through it like it was of no consequence, the turians just kind of stepped over it gingerly and she, as the only nonkrogan, nonturian, member of Aralakh Company slogged through it tenaciously.

Help was offered, but received with a snarl, so soon everyone let her be as she made her own way.

So far, it was actually kind of nice being out here with these guys. They had wicked and dirty senses of humor that made her laugh so very hard sometimes, until her sides were fit to bursting with it. They accepted her once they'd seen her in action, saw how she mowed down the mercs that had run to ground here from the Vagabonds that patrolled the space in this sector of the the galaxy.

Grunt watched her from afar, never saying a word to her beyond the job and she was puzzled by it. He seemed to have words with everyone, but her. Was she being singled out for some purpose? Was she not performing up to his expectations? That couldn't be it, she'd peeked at the logistics reports and her kill count was easily as high as the next guy, in fact was higher than most. It was a mystery and she sighed, getting tired of all the puzzles in her life. Maybe she should have stayed out of the military and gone into music like her mother wanted.

Finally, after a few weeks she couldn't stand it any more and one evening stalked up to the recalcitrant krogan who led their merry band. She waited for him to notice her at the edge of his firelight and when he gestured, she sat on a soggy log near enough to him to not have to speak loudly and sighed, "Boss, you got a problem with me?"

Grunt's browplates rose in surprise, "No. Why?"

"You don't ever...talk to me, like you do the other guys. Is it because I'm female?" She frowned as an amused rumble came out of Grunt's throat.

"Huh, I thought asari weren't male or female." Grunt said in a teasing tone, poking his fire with a stick.

Susan furrowed her brow and waved her hands dismissively, "You know what I mean. Small, soft, squishy."

Grunt laughed at this, head shaking, "If I didn't want you here, you wouldn't be here. If I thought I'd made a mistake after the fact, well, let's just say that instead of trudging through that swamp, you'd have been floating face down in it."

She considered him for a moment, there was a look in his eye that was unfamiliar as he looked at her, "Then why?"

"Because you remind me of someone, kid. It's almost distracting to be around you, it's so strong a feeling." Grunt shifted almost nervously.

"Then why did you pick me at all?" She really wanted to know what he meant, who she reminded him of, but knew from experience with her mother that direct questions of that sort were often met with a complete shutdown of the person asked. Better to feel around the problem, see the shape of it by the hole it made.

Grunt made a noise deep in his throat, "Because you have the fire. I can hear it in you."

Alright, that didn't sound like mystical mumbo jumbo at all. She pulled a face she learned from Javik at him, the slightly sneery one with hints of doubt in it. Grunt smiled wryly as he took this in and she said, as her face relaxed back into its former placid curiosity, "Why didn't you pick Kala?"

"Was that that other asari that stepped forward in your platoon?" At her nod, he scratched his chin, staring at her in a disconcerting way. She resisted the urge to shuffle and stared back impassively, he rumbled a sigh, "There was something...off about her. And I don't need 'off' either, it's hard enough being out here chasing bandits and whatnot on foot without having to worry about what you might have brought with you. Who you might have brought with you."

Susan frowned at her CO, crossing her arms across her chest, "She's a good soldier, a good friend."

"And you were afraid that you'd be alone out here." She started at the insightful comment and Grunt grinned, sweeping his hand out to the assembled tents at the base of this hill they were sitting on, "Tell me, do you still feel alone?"

She thought carefully and shook her head, "No, I love these guys. I'd take a bullet for any of them."

Grunt laughed at her fierce countenance, "Good, cause you more than likely will and they'd do the same, because we're family now. Brothers with a single purpose. Part of each other."

She smiled at the image and felt the truth of it. Grunt loved his boys...and girl and she felt the warm rush of that comraderie all over her skin and turned a grin of pure elation on her CO, "You know, I never had any brothers. It's kind of...nice."

"Well, being asari, you wouldn't, would you?" Grunt snorted and she laughed, which made that craggy face break into a grin. They lapsed into silence for a time, just comrades at a fire in the middle of a hotzone. Death could be around the next corner, but they'd meet it together and she finally let go of the guilt of being picked for this honor, and it was an honor, she saw.

She relaxed as she tilted her face to the sky and its plethora of heavenly bodies, all twinkling up there in the night and she started humming, just enjoying the peace of the moment. She let the sound wind where it would, let it shift to higher and lower registers and was nearly startled into silence when Grunt started humming, too. She turned an astonished face to him over there, sitting with his fire poking stick all but forgotten in his hand, his eyes closed as he followed her melody unerringly.

She felt a delighted tingle roll up her spine and wove harmonies around his melody, gratified to see him pop one approving eye open to watch her as she grinned with barely suppressed emotion at this small wonder. The song wound itself down to a natural conclusion and they both sighed deeply. She stood and stretched her spine, reaching up to those far away stars, fancying the image of catching one in her hand and said, "Well, I better get back to my tent before they all start thinking I'm sleeping with the boss."

Grunt laughed and said to her retreating back, "I want you and Varga up here every sundown to discuss strategy and tactics. Might as well teach you something while you're here."

"Will do, boss." She tipped him a sarcastic salute and was rewarded with a warm chuckle. She climbed into her tent and fell into a deep and thankfully dreamless slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

Marcus grimaced as a hail of bullets pounded the bit of cover that he'd crawled behind. He signaled to his brother to drop some grenades and nodded to Aleia, who flicked a mandible lazily at him before standing up out of cover to launch a biotic assault on their enemies. He waited for the explosions before cautiously leaning out of cover. There was another sniper out there, he'd heard the whine of a targeting laser and deplored the utter lack of higher ground in this underground stronghold they found themselves in.

They'd found a relic of the ignoble past. A Cerberus base, apparently that organization wasn't as dead as was previously thought. The higher ups weren't going to like that, not at all. He had sent an emergency message to his ship so they'd at least know to pass the word along. Just in case.

He pulled his head back just as the red beam found him, the crack of the sniper rifle filling the air. Startled, he touched the hole in his cover, watched the powdery debris from the bullet entering and exiting the low wall float on the air. Whoever they were they were using some kind of anti-material rifle, probably of the Widow series, maybe a Widow IV and he grimaced. "Paulus, Aleia, they got a Widow. Keep your head down. Ralph, gimme a turret at my 11 o'clock. Where's Ergot?"

"He's down." Came his brother's voice and it made his blood turn to ice with rage. Marcus waited patiently for the pattering sound of the turret to engage their enemy and thought hard about the layout of this room. There was only one spot there could possible be angles to be exploited on the far side of the room and in his mind's eye, he charted a slow course around the margins, blind spots and alcoves. He made his way through the maze he'd envisioned, trusting his intuition to alert him if he needed to duck and soon found himself directly behind their sniper buddy.

He took his time aiming, the end of his rifle a mere foot away from that bastard's skull and pulled the trigger, watching in satisfaction as the gore flew in all directions. He turned and took out the spotter, who had just enough time to yelp in fear. "All clear."

His squad, what remained of it anyway found him where he was still standing over the corpse of the sniper and he fielded a highfive from Ralph, who whistled in awe, "Jeez, boss, remind me never to get on your bad side."

"A Cerberus base, who'd have thought it? I thought all these went down with the Illusive Man." Paulus scratched his fringe, nudging the corpses of their enemies with a toe.

"They were a terrorist group. Had hundreds of cells, makes a terrible sort of sense that we didn't get them all. Look," Marcus pulled the helmet off one, showing them the very asari face beneath it, "they're not just a human extremist group any more. I wonder what the hell they were doing here, though. There's nothing on this rock, but minerals."

Aleia stepped forward, her head angled in thought, "Long range scanners picked up a lot of Element Zero on this planet, maybe they were mining it."

"Let's go farther in, maybe we'll find some answers."

"Or more questions." His brother said grimly.

"We'll get Ergot on the way out, send him to his family." Marcus bowed his head in grief, that he'd lost one already made him feel a touch of doubt in his ability. He should have scouted more, done some more recon before committing their squad to this endeavor.

The tunnels were tight, but he kept his eye on the thermals of his visor and they encountered no more resistance as they ventured into the complex. It was some sort of lab, he could see, by the sheer amount of monitoring stations and consoles and operating tables. Maybe they were trying to recreate the Reaper tech that had for the most part disappeared from the galaxy with the Reapers themselves. It wasn't a pleasant thought, he turned to his engineer, "Get a data mine going. Dump all that onto an OSD."

"Huh, might need two." Said Ralph, who jumped to his command eagerly, always happy to get his hands on more tech.

Marcus wandered through the clean rooms, occasionally stopping to peck at a station. The ones that were encoded he left alone for the most part, Sanders would eventually get to them and he never deprived his engineer the small pleasures in life if he could avoid it. He ran his hand over a curious symbol that was carved in bas relief on almost every console. It looked like a stick with a hook on the end, he wondered what it meant, something important if it was so prolific in this room, and on their uniforms he saw now, in his memory. It had been on their uniforms too, beneath the Cerberus emblem. _Hmmm, curious._

He took a holo with his omnitool and sighed, "Almost done?"

"You gotta see this, boss." Sanders called to him and he strode to where the human was keying up a series of recordings.

He saw a turian and an alien he knew for a fact could only be one man, the last prothean, Javik, in a room with pods full of geth lining the walls. The prothean was facing the camera or rather the turian in front of him, who had his back to the observers, in the frozen still and he gestured for the engineer to start playback. He leaned close to listen and was startled to hear a very familiar voice, a voice that used to school him on the finer points of sniping.

"...Are you avenging your men...Or your _pride?" _The turian's broad back was to him but he knew that if it turned, he would see blue colony markings on a scarred face.

The prothean's hands became clawlike as he tore at the air in agony, a choked cry falling from his lips. He watched his uncle take a step forward, hand fisted, that kind voice of memory now a cold accusation, "If you ever loved them, you murdered the very last of what they were and meant to you, when you cut out your heart. You might as well be a Reaper."

Javik fell to his knees on the decking, his face a silent howl of self recrimination. The prothean whimpered, shaking his head in fierce denial, folding up on himself. A hiss from one of the pods made Garrus' head snap around, and Marcus saw the markings at last, knew in his heart that this was Garrus Vakarian from well before he'd become primarch, when there was still a primarch. A red haired human stepped down from the newly opened pod, almost dazed, her eyes alight with joy. A joy that Marcus could almost feel beating at him through the screens.

She stood before Javik and drew the prothean to his feet with her hands on his. Her voice was a compelling mix of wonder and command as she said, "See me, Javik. See_ them._"

Aleia, behind him said in awe, "That's Shepard."

Marcus nodded, sure of that fact, as sure of it as he was of anything. Shepard, the Commander Shepard, who he might or might not have glimpsed once before on a beach, when he was a child.

They froze there, like statues, only the shifting of the turian on the screen watching them let him know that the vid hadn't frozen. Fascinated, he watched as Shepard's red hair rose to stand on end, as if charged electrically. What could cause such a thing?

He watched as his uncle paced back and forth. A geth with a large hole in his chest came to stand with Garrus and Marcus watched with trepidation as a large group of primes stood over the quartet of smaller beings, all witnessing the scene silently. That geth reached out to his uncle's shoulder and said, almost in awe, "Garrus Vakarian, we now know the purpose of hope."

Garrus turned his scarred face to that geth and gasped out, "Are you sure you want to know hope? Hope can be terrible. As terrible as despair."

"We have seen Shepard, she has seen us. Her heart is known to us now." The geth looked up to the primes who bent their heads, reverently. It froze then, the recording was at its end and he took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow. He felt as though he'd actually been in there, in that memory, watching the event unfold in person.

Aleia made a sound in her throat, finally saying, "What does it mean?"

"What's the timestamp say?" Marcus asked Sanders, who tapped a few keys and brought up the numbers. He thought carefully and met his brother's gaze, "The day the Morning War ended."

"The same day that Shepard talked the geth and quarians into a ceasefire. That is widely regarded as a miracle." Aleia tapped her chin thoughtfully with her long taloned fingers, a light in her eyes that didn't quite rest well with Marcus as he waited for her to continue. She tapped the monitor and said in a voice filled with awe, "Do you think we just saw another miracle?"

Marcus shared a look with his brother, they would never talk of the thing that they may or may not have seen while visiting their uncle one spring. He rubbed his neck to ease the tension he was feeling, "Things are not always what they seem, Aleia. We weren't there, so how could we know for sure exactly what happened?"

"That's true enough." The light in her eyes said it wasn't as easily dismissed as her words made it seem and she shrugged elegantly to his quirked brow, "We can analyze the data later."

"Right, let's get Ergot and leave." The squad made their way back out, finding the shuttle where they'd left it, which was always a huge relief. Their comrade they laid gently on the decking, and he wrapped a black hermetically sealed shroud around the body reverently, sending a silent prayer to follow him into the afterlife, their brave friend. He sat back and listened to the whine of the engines as they took off, wondering what to make of all they'd seen today.

* * *

"So what you're saying is that Cerberus is still active." The human before him rasped, blowing out a prodigious amount of smoke for such a small cigarette. This was his sector Chief, the one they called Massani. His deeply scarred face wrinkled even more in a grimace and Marcus wondered just how old this human was. And why he wasn't retired. Massani coughed, spitting a ball of phlegm onto the decking to his right. Marcus winced inwardly at such crudeness and the human croaked in a voice that was angry and tired at the same time, "Well, ain't that a kick in the balls."

"I have the logs if you want to go over them..." He held the datapad out to the man, who took it disinterestedly.

"Later, later." Massani looked at him from under half lidded eyes, "You're one of the Vakarians, aren't you?"

Marcus nodded, slowly, a frown on his face, "...I am, sir."

"Don't you sir me, I work for a livin'. I think I seen you once before, at Garrus' funeral, his sister's kids, right? You were just a little sprat then. Well, not so little." He smiled at the turian, who shifted awkwardly, uncertain where this was going. "How many of you are there?"

"Five, but only three of us are out here. Me, my brother, Paulus and our sister, Lucia." He thought of his sister Lucia, somewhere out there with her own team of Vagabonds, the youngest to ever command her own team, and smiled, she was so deadly, a soldier through and through, never met a weapon she didn't like and promptly try to take home.

"Five little Vakarians running around the galaxy, cor." The human's face took on a faraway look and said with a smile tugging at his face, "What about the other two?"

Marcus shifted again, not really wanting to get into this personal discussion with a man he just met, "My sister Damalia is a Spectre and my other brother, if he's still alive, well..."

"Ah, a black sheep. I understand. I was one meself." Massani laced his hands on top of his head, "There's always one, ha."

Marcus didn't want to explain to this prying human that he worried that one day he'd look down the scope and see his brother's face there, that he'd look through the casualty reports and see his name on it under enemy kills or find him on a prison ship. He sent a silent thankful prayer to the spirits that their parents weren't alive to see this come to pass. Inigo had fallen, fallen far and he dreaded the day when it all caught up with their wayward brother.

"Why don't you have the blue, um,..?" Massani stroked his own cheek in imitation of colony markings and Marcus just kept himself from rolling his eyes.

"I use the ones my dad wore, these were the colony markings of his planet of birth." He resisted touching his face self consciously. He rather liked the green striping that split his face vertically in lines that accentuated his cheeks and mandibles, his brother had decided to go with the blue of their grandfather's markings.

"Oh, is that what they are? Learn something new everyday."

He cleared his throat, "If we're done here..."

"Not so fast, Vakarian." The man gave him another datapad, "Here's your next assignment. This krogan I know got himself in a bit of a jam, needs some hostiles sorted and you're just the one to do it, I think, you and your boys."

"On it, Chief." Marcus raised his brows at the huge grin that split the human's face at his seemingly innocuous words, "What?"

"Nothin'. You just reminded me of something." Massani turned his chair back to his monitors, picking up the datapad, "Now get out of here before I bore you with a story."

As he left, he thought he caught a whiff of saltwater and frowned, pausing at the door, then shook his head as he palmed the lock to the airlock.

Once back on his own ship, he breathed a sigh of relief. This he understood, his ship, the assignment, his crew, that was easy. He pinged their omnitools to meet him in the galley and waited, reading over the data he was given with growing interest. They showed up one by one, their faces inquisitive in the low light of their tiny kitchen/dining area. He gestured for them to take a seat and spoke, "We got a new assignment. Looks like a smash and grab. Hostiles in a base, with a team of ours on the outside and a team of ours trapped on the inside. They, the pirates we chased off Korar, have the insertion team on the inside cornered."

"So we're breaking into a base to break out some of our guys. Got it." Paulus laughed and slapped his knee, "And the team of ours on the outside, who are they?"

"Aralakh Company." Marcus smiled to hear them jeer, there was always some friendly rivalry between the different divisions, "C'mon, guys, maybe they're tired of picking up after us."

"Eating our leftovers, you mean." Sanders laughed, his scar shiny in the light. Synthskin never quite looked normal, even fully healed.

He held up his hands to quiet them down and continued, "So the rest of Aralakh Company will be a distraction while we slip in and bolster their insertion team and get them out with, uh, lots of collateral damage to the opposition."

"Please say we can use ordinance, pleaase." His brother begged, clasping his hands comically before him, drawing a laugh from everyone there.

"Ordinance for everybody!" He raised his hands over them like he was passing out candy, which in a weird way he was. He wasn't as enamored of things going boom as much as the rest of his team, but he'd indulge them this time. And smiled to see how eager his deadly little team was. Aleia was watching him with half lidded eyes, running her hand along her collarbones and it made him gulp reflexively. Oh yes, this was exactly where he wanted to be.


	5. Chapter 5

"Varga, I don't think this is such a good idea." Susan said as she unholstered her rifle. The compound they were thinking about breaking into lay before them, cradled into the side of a mountain, there were guards on every point of entry she could see, lots of guards. She turned to the krogan next to her, who was looking down there through binoculars, "Grunt said recon only."

Varga flashed her a wicked smile, rumbling a chuckle, "C'mon, squirt, live a little. Look at them, down there, they're ripe for slaughter. We'll sneak in and take it apart from the inside."

"You don't know what they have in there with them, you daft krogan. Could be a platoon, could be a whole damn company. There's only five of us." She said in an angry whisper, "I know you only have three fingers, Varga, but surely you can count up to five."

"No way there's a whole company, look at how few vehicles they have and only four seaters. Not a single mako down there. This has got to be a small installation." Varga signaled them to follow him down the hill, "My call, my show. Let's get them."

Susan sighed as she followed her defacto leader into a ravine, one that preliminary scouting said led right to the base of the wall. It was likely that there would be structural damage from the rains that flooded this channel almost every day. Damage that could give them an in if they were careful and clever. She doubted that Varga could be clever if he tried and found herself getting more and more restive the further she went down this path.

Finally, they got to the wall, she scanned the area above them for sign that they'd been detected and was glad when no alarm went up. They'd be sitting ducks down here in this channel of cut earth, the walls were too steep to climb quickly and there was no cover to be had. She heard them tapping the mortar between the bricks carefully, this building must be pretty old to not be prefab or maybe the enemy had been on this planet long enough to need to make things like brick from scratch. She watched them out of the corner of her eye as they carefully drilled a hole through the wall and pushed a probe through to check for heat signatures.

Varga signaled the all clear and got to work loosening the crumbling bricks, the perennial rains had destroyed much of their integrity and it was almost alarming to see how it turned to dust and mud in Varga's huge hands. Susan started to feel that this would actually work. Soon, there was a hole big enough for all of them to squeeze through and they did, into a dark room filled with old equipment. Some kind of storage area.

This room had a door and with stealth, because she was the stealthiest one there, she slowly opened it, willing its hinges not to creak and peered out of the tiny crack she'd made to look into a long corridor lined with doors with stairs at the end. She nodded to Varga, who with a look split the team up into two, one to take the left and one to take the right. She breathed into one of her teammates ears, knowing his superior turian hearing would pick up her words, "Thermals?"

He shivered as her breath ghosted along his fringe, throwing her a sharp glance and she shrugged in apology, then he shook his head, saying with near equal softness, "Jammed."

They listened at every door before inserting a probe under it, looking for warm bodies, finding none. She exchanged a look with Varga, who grunted in frustration and before she could stop him, had flung the door closest to him open. She heard the click and the whir of a mech before she saw it and with nightmare slowness watched Varga's shotgun come up and fire with a resounding blast. It echoed around the walls portentously and distantly, she heard alarms go up and the stomp of many booted feet above her head.

She stuck her head around the door frame and saw a service mech laying in pieces on the ground, she shot an angry look at Varga's horrified face and said sarcastically, "Nice one. You shot the janitor."

She darted to open the other doors, looking inside, taking stock rapidly. They couldn't go back out the way they came, they'd only die in the crossfire at the bottom of that ravine. There was near the end, a room with another door in it, further back and she called them all to her, the first of the mercs that ran this joint pounding down the stairs. She unloaded on the first rank, watching them fall with satisfaction, then she ran after her squad, dropping a singularity to block the door. There was another staircase that led down and she hesitated, "This is so not the direction we want to be going."

"Where else can we go? Back out there?" Varga was deferring to her now, she could see. His mistake could still cost them everything and he didn't want to make another one. Wise, wise krogan. With a sigh, she took command, changing her stance and the set of her shoulders to show that she was now in charge.

"I want proximity charges every twenty feet, Damus. Get us some sonar down here, Karo. I know it can be done, they might block our thermals, but they probably don't have a noise generator up. Shan, cover our six. I got point." And that was that, they followed her commands smoothly as though she'd been leading them this whole time. Varga's shoulders were slumped in defeat still and she slugged him one right across the face to wake him up, "C'mon, Varga, I need you."

He shook his head and shot her a grateful look, "If we get out of here, T'soni, I'm buying you a drink."

"Buy us both a drink, big guy. Let's see what's what." Armed with sonar, she made her way down this curving staircase into a gloomy tunnel. It was huge and had crates on a platform in front of them. There was a tramway in the far end that stretched further than she could see, "Karo, how far do you think?"

"Sonar's rudimentary at best, it's showing...at least a thousand meters, could stretch much farther." Karo shrugged, mandibles twitching in anxiety. She smiled to show him that they had this.

"Alright, probably another base on this planet that that tunnel goes to, with more baddies. We'll probably hear them approach before we see them so keep your eyes peeled and concentrate on defending the direction we came from. Good thing that door will make a good pinch point, force them to come at us a few at a time." She sighed as she thought about what they were going to do next, "I'm going to send a message to Grunt over my omnitool, but it's going to pin point our location for the enemy, so be ready."

The deed was done, she sent a request for aid to their CO and would probably not hear a reply until they came waltzing up with plenty a joke at their expense. She threw a dark channel at a merc who'd descended into her field of vision, from the racket the opposition was making, there were quite a few of them. This was looking to be a long, long wait.

* * *

Marcus ran down the center of the hallway, trusting his brother to pick off any stragglers as he dove for cover. He'd been surprised at the small number of sentries they had posted outside and been grateful for it as well. He'd sniped them all, watched their bodies drop to the cold unforgiving ground through the enhanced vision of his scope. The inside, however was a completely different story. They were working from the top down as the main force of Aralakh Company assaulted the main door. There seemed no end to the enemy, just more and more rooms full of mercs.

They were dressed like mercs anyway, he was having his doubts though as he started noticing little things about them, the way they were a cohesive unit, the way their merc-ishness was almost a uniform. It was a mystery that itched to be solved and he hoped that maybe he would have some answers when the day's work was over.

It was when he started coming across kills not of his own doing that he realized they were finally on the right trail. Somewhere, hopefully nearby, and most certainly at the end of this trail of bloody bread crumbs, was Aralakh Company's insertion squad, beleaguered no doubt. He hoped they were still alive so he could have a word with their CO about running headlong into untold numbers without a contingency plan.

Aleia threw a shockwave down the hall, catching an enemy soldier unawares, tossing him up like a ragdoll. Marcus planted a bullet in that man's head as he swung through the air gently and rushed on, his squad at his heels. He found a door and more bodies piled up in a stairwell, someone was using ordinance, proximity mines if he had to guess from the scorch marks on the wall.

Slowly, they made their way down, checking for unexploded mines as they went. There weren't many, he detonated them remotely with a bullet each. Marcus advanced carefully toward what he could hear were the sounds of battle, the cacophonous reports of rifles and pistols, the yells of struggle and he hurried his steps. There was a veritable mountain of bodies at the door, whoever they were had done a good job defending until the numbers had started to overwhelm.

He clambered through the door, and took stock of the situation. The defenders were backed up to a series of platforms at the edge of a tramway, there was a car there which he assumed had poured more enemy soldiers onto them, leaving them to be attacked from both sides so they'd pulled back to this more defensible position. He signaled to his team to move in and they started picking apart the attackers easily. At first they went unnoticed, but as the mercs found their numbers dwindling rapidly, the regard of the group split fore and aft. Now they were the ones fighting on two fronts.

He laid into them with his assault rifle, and its omniblade bayonet, feeling the battle joy fill him at this so simple a strategy, simple but fulfilling in its savagery and understood why his brother always insisted on being in the front ranks. It was exhilarating to be this close to death with every swing and bullet. He still longed for his sniper rifle though, still loved the meticulousness of surgical strikes. Soon there was none left to stand between him and the remaining members of Arlakh Company. He found himself looking into the angry, but exultant green glare of one very flushed asari, who said stridently, as though she wasn't covered in blood and viscera, "Where the hell is Grunt?"

Paulus snorted derisively, "That's gratitude for you. Your boss is outside, cleaning up your mess."

That diminutive figure in its blue and white armor strode up to his brother and poked him in the chest. Marcus could feel fury rolling off that tiny woman as she growled, low and cold, "_My_ mess? How 'bout you come down here and say that to my face?"

He saw what was going to happen a split second before it did, far too late to warn his brother who smirked as he leaned down til he was eye to eye with the asari, "Your me-"

That blue head reared back and unleashed a full strength headbutt, which had his brother reeling back from the force of it, almost falling onto his backside. The krogan with her laughed uproariously and his brother lunged toward her with a snarl on his face. Marcus reached out and stopped him, saying with a mild tone, "Hello, Susan."

She shot him a surprised look, taking a closer look at her rescuers, peering up into his blue eyes as she slowly grinned, "Marcus?"

"T'soni, you know this guy?" She waved them to silence as she looked at the other members of Marcus' team.

"And Paulus. I don't recognize the other two. Well fancy meeting you here."

Marcus rumbled in amusement, taking in their surroundings, the bodies at their feet with a glance, "I could say the same. How'd you get in this mess anyway?"

She shot a look behind her and one of her teammates shuffled, head ducked in embarrassment and she said, "It's not important right now. Do we have an exit?"

"Yes. The roof, but it's-" He was interrupted by a loud explosion and the sound of many smaller explosions and their small bit of respite was destroyed by a multitude of enemy soldiers pouring into this room, and they were forced to fight desperately for their lives against the tide of soldiers who were more than likely fleeing the rest of Aralakh Company.

They found themselves being separated in the onslaught, with he and his brother and Susan all being pushed toward the tram car by the press of bodies and everyone else being shoved the other way. Marcus yelled over the tumult, "Aleia, get them out! We'll find another way!"

Susan stopped fighting the rush and went with it, killing with abandon. He and his brother covered her as she searched for a console, finding it with a triumphant crow. She slammed the button with a fist and turned back to the enemy, who was trying their damnedest to take out these deadly insurgents in their midst, but in their fear and panic, could do no more than get in each others' way.

Finally, every last enemy soldier that had hopped on this tram with them was down and the trio looked at each other with incredulous stares, breaths coming fast and hard. Susan shuffled awkwardly before turning to Paulus, "Look, I'm, uh, sorry for..."

Paulus waved her off, good mood restored by the fighting as it always was, he wiped at the trickle of blue from his nose and said, "Who knew asari had such hard heads? You sure you're not part krogan?"

She laughed and it reminded Marcus of that day on that ship when they'd all met and he smiled, listening as the asari continued, "You know, I don't know. Could be."

"Where does this tunnel go?" Marcus brought them back to the present and gestured down the direction they were going. They passed lamps placed at intervals of about ten yards, but none were bright enough to illuminate more that a few feet at a time.

"I, uh, don't know that either." She rubbed the back her neck nervously, with a smile of chagrin.

He huffed at her, "Don't have a lot of answers today, do we?"

She looked up into those goldish faces with their very different markings and smiled, feeling strangely comfortable around them, shrugging, "Nope."

Marcus sighed as he gazed out into the darkness, "Let's load up on heatsinks. I have a feeling we're going to need them."


	6. Chapter 6

The tramcar stopped about six feet from the platform, someone had finally thought to cut the power and he wondered briefly if it was friend or foe. Marcus nodded to his brother that he should go first, but was beaten to the punch by a flying shape that ran past him, that hurled itself through the air with abandon and when it landed less than gracefully on the other side, Susan turned and flashed them a mischievous grin, "Coming?"

Paulus grinned back at her as he said, "Maybe later. You could help me with that."

Marcus was a little shocked at how bold this statement was, but was assuaged by the short burst of a laugh that was pulled from the asari who was watching his brother with quirked brow, "No, seriously, don't make me laugh. I'm told it...carries."

Paulus leapt the gap easily, looming over her with an amused rumble, "Guess we don't need anyone coming to investigate what's so damn funny."

Marcus joined them, pulling his sniper rifle out with a practiced motion. They pulled out their own weapons and followed in his wake as he led them down a dark tunnel that had light at the end of it.

Susan kept glancing to her left and catching Paulus' eye swing away from her, obviously staring when he thought she wasn't looking and she felt a flush creep up her neck at the intent regard in those grey eyes. She could feel it like a warm tingle on her skin and wondered at herself,_ why now of all times. _She was no stranger to..attention, found it almost a curse of her race to be widely regarded as desirable. But it had never...affected her like this til now and she smiled ruefully at the ill timing of her hormones.

Or...it could be he was staring because she was covered in blood, had been for a day now. She pulled out a rag and wiped her face self consciously, noting with a grimace of disgust how much filth was on the rag as she looked back down into it. Movement up ahead grabbed her attention and she rolled nimbly into cover against the arching wall. She saw her companions do the same just as a troop of 'mercs' rolled by in a jeep convoy, she assumed that they had come to see why their other patrol hadn't made it back.

She decided to see if Marcus wanted to stay hidden, knew already that his judgement was sound. She breathed a sigh of relief as they weren't noticed in the shadows and once they were out of sight, she rejoined the two turians who cautiously left cover. Marcus said grimly, "I guess we should be glad now that they've jammed the thermals."

She nodded and replied, "We should get a move on. They'll swing back once they see the tram isn't working."

Marcus watched her as she glanced at his brother, who was staring at her. He felt a ghost of a thought creep up in the back of his mind and hung back while they forged ahead. He saw how Paulus leaned toward her slightly and smiled,_ uh oh he's got it bad_. He scanned the darkness behind them as they moved forward.

Finally they got to the far end of this tunnel and were met with a door, a huge door, marble with veins of purple shot through it. He ran a hand over it, wondering how someone got something like this into a damn mountain. Susan knocked experimentally and the rock deadened the sound of it, she turned a surprised and slightly worried face on him, "I think I know what this is."

Marcus gestured for her to continue, which she did with a deep breath, "I think..it's an asari temple to the goddess."

Paulus frowned, "What? Why would there be a temple down here?"

Marcus looked up and around the breadth of the thing, and let his intuition talk for him, "I think this is the other side of the mountain."

"This is Thessian marble, you only find it in one place." Susan shrugged, "Thing is...these things are usually chock full of matriarchs. So, either, we'll have a bunch of mercs that can take out asari matriarchs on our hands..."

"...or a crapload of asari matriarchs." Marcus finished, rubbing his hands together. Three, just three to fight a bunch of matriarchs or enough mercs to take those same out, "Not good, either way. How do we even open it?"

Paulus pointed behind them, "I bet those guys know."

Marcus swung around to see the jeeps heading back and darted a glance around for cover. There were maybe two dozen that he could see, not too many and he just had to hope that the marble at their back would stifle the noise of their fighting. He turned to tell Susan where to post and found her already there and instead said, "Paulus, pillar."

His brother moved to the indicated spot and Marcus threw a grenade to start things off with a bang, ducking behind a marble planter just as it went off, lifting one of those jeeps off the ground, the soldiers in it falling to the ground with startled yells. They laid into the enemy with short, precise bursts and Marcus felt a wash of joy at how fluidly they interacted with each other. He'd never felt such a...gestalt before, all the energies of his squad coming together as one. He was elated and turned a wondering eye to Susan.

She was sharing a glance with his brother, whose face was mirroring her battle joy and a pang of some unfamiliar feeling rush through his body, something like jealousy. That couldn't be right, was...wrong and he shook his head to clear it and concentrated on the fight, picking off any head that dared peek out at them. He laughed with his brother as a whole group of them was caught up in a biotic power he'd never seen before, a bubble of energy that made them float serenely, easy to pick off.

They cleared the mob with ease and stood with identical smiles of elation. Susan said with a huge grin, "Well, that was easy. Maybe the next part won't be as difficult as we thought."

That sobered Marcus to no end and he said, "We should avoid fighting them if we can. There's only three of us."

"Even a krogan can count that high." Susan snorted a laugh, and blushed hotly under their puzzled stares, "It's, uh, nothing, just reminded me of something I said to Varga earlier."

Marcus pondered delving into this particular mystery and stopped himself from asking, if she wanted to bait krogan with racist remarks, that was her business. He silently saluted her bravery. He turned to the bodies of the men they'd just killed, "Search them. One of them's bound to have a key or a clue or something."

"Maybe we shouldn't have killed them all." Paulus rumbled as he bent to the task, rifling through pockets and turning over corpses. He pocketed several heatsinks as he went, as did they all. "We could always wait for another group and capture one of them."

Susan spoke up from where she was searching the jeeps, "I'm not much for torture. Better a clean death. Ah-ha!"

She held up a device that looked like a radio transmitter triumphantly and tossed it to Marcus, who looked down at it in deep thought. Paulus nudged him with an elbow while he wiped blood off his hands with a piece of one of their uniforms, "Just push it already."

"What if it's a trap or a bomb or something?" He asked his brother, who shrugged.

Susan laughed and said, "Not knowing is half the fun, finding out is the other."

"We saw where your lackadaisical logic landed you." Marcus smirked just a tiny bit at the warning that flickered in the asari's icy green eyes.

"I'm with her, Marcus. Push the button, we got your back." Paulus grinned, confidence in the set of his broad shoulders and Marcus answered it with one of his own.

He turned to the door, taking a deep breath, checking his rifle. He looked to his left, his brother smiled, the faith in him blazing from those grey eyes. He looked to his right, where he saw the same faith in Susan's icy green ones and felt suddenly that they could take on anything. The whole galaxy if need be and it made his heart swell with pride. Now he was eager to see what was on the other side of that door, to meet and defeat whatever might be waiting for them.

Decisively, he pressed the button and watched as the marble door rose before them, a blinding light beyond it.

* * *

It wasn't an 'or', it was an 'and', Marcus rolled to avoid a shockwave and came up to fire at a group of mercs that were posted at the far end of this large circular chamber, hiding behind pews of granite. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Susan tangling with a group of three older asari. She seemed to be holding her own for now, but if the grimace on her face was any indication, she was going to need help soon. His brother worked his way around the mercs to flank them as Marcus kept their attention with bursts of rifle fire.

Methodically, he and his brother took out the mercs and turned their attention to their companion, who'd just been flung through the air by a biotic blast. Luckily, she landed behind some cover and he shot a burst of fire to distract the matriarchs. They ducked behind some pillars as he ran to her fallen body. She groaned and sat up just as he reached her, "You okay?"

"Never better." She winced as she shifted, "Marble's really not...cushiony at all."

Paulus dropped in next to her, the barrel of his assault rifle swinging back and forth to cover them and said with a smile at her, "Next time we'll find some nice grassy fields to fight in."

"That just sounds so...lovely. It's a date." She waved her hand vaguely, then focused sharply on a blue figure that was even now setting up a shockwave to toss in their direction, "Move."

They rolled simultaneously to avoid the attack and Paulus looked at his older brother, "Any ideas?"

Marcus saw the predicament they were in, without someone pressuring the matriarchs, they would eventually hit one or all of them with their biotic attacks. He counted his heatsinks, there were not as many as he'd like. Susan looked at him out of the corner of her eye, her mouth opening to say, "Either of you have warp ammo?"

Paulus nodded and she sighed in relief, "Load it. When you see the purple glow, light her up."

Marcus shrugged at his brother, who'd turned a questioning eye on him, "Do it."

Susan ran out of cover and took a hit to her shields as she stood there, arms raised. A ball of purplish light floated almost serenely toward one of those matriarchs, who'd come out of cover just as she did to deliver their own biotic assaults. Paulus raised his weapon and shot a burst of warp ammo at the center one, just as the purple ball reached her and the brothers both reeled back in the wake of the ensuing explosion. Susan in the meantime had ducked back behind a pillar and was smiling in satisfaction as she took in the downed matriarch and the two stunned others.

With a yell, she leaped upon them, abandoning trying to shoot them and her omniblade flicked out, gutting one viciously and the other had just enough time to hold her hands up defensively before she was barreled to the ground under their companion's weight. Marcus watched the pumping of that slim arm as Susan thrust her blade deep into the body under her over and over again, blood flying. Paulus leaned on his brother's shoulder with one elbow, saying in a voice low and whimsical, "Aw man, I think I'm in love."

He looked into his brother's bemused, grinning face as Paulus was taking in the sight of their savage asari companion as she stood and thrust her fist in the air in triumph. She turned a blood covered face to them and Marcus had to smile at the infatuated expression that flitted across his brother's face, "Love, lust, whatever."

Paulus laughed as Susan strode up to them, grinning madly, "Biotic detonation, gotta love it."

"Alright, let's take a look around, find some answers maybe." Marcus walked further into the temple, turning to take it all in.

Susan looked up and up into the space where there should be the familiar sight of the goddess Athame, but wasn't. Instead, there, hanging above her on suspension rods, a massive sculpture of a human face, just a female face, looking down at her with rapture in its cold stone eyes and she shivered, why she wasn't quite sure. Around this sepulchre, statues, larger than life, all with their faces turned up and their arms out like they were receiving a benediction of some sort. This wasn't a temple to Athame any more, its purpose had been changed and suspicion of a different sort filled her as she moved closer to those oddly familiar chiseled faces.

Paulus interrupted her thoughts as he said behind her, "Is that who I think it is?"

She followed his gaze to a figure at the head of this strange menagerie, turian in silhouette, it was lit from below and the light cast its face in a sinister way. She watched Marcus approach the statue, feeling a strange sort of awe at how similar in build the living turian before her was to the dead one represented by this cold marble effigy. He reached out a hand and touched it, "Uncle Garrus."

"What the hell does this all mean?" Paulus said angrily, sweeping his arms around.

Marcus shot him a look over his shoulder, saying shortly, "It's a cult. A cult of Shepard."

Susan shook her head, trying to ignore the strange pang she felt at the thought, "No. Shepard died."

But she couldn't deny the evidence around her, Shepard's likeness stared at her from above while the companions she had in life were immortalized around her in stone, she trembled at the idea. It felt so very...wrong, somehow.

"This is wrong." Came Marcus' low and tight voice from where he stood still staring up at the image of his uncle. He himself wasn't aware that he'd spoken his thought out loud over the sudden pounding of his heart, fear and anger. Paulus shook him by the shoulder and he wrenched his arm away from him, "We should destroy this place."

"I don't think I brought enough ordinance for that." Paulus froze as he turned back toward the center of the room, "What the hell is that?"

Marcus turned and found Susan crouched in the center of the circle of statue, peering intently through the semi translucent stone under her. He saw now that it pulsed slightly with light and walked over to where it seemed to be emanating from. His sharp eyes picked out a shape down there, under the stone, dark against the light and said, "There's someone under there."

"How do we-?" Susan said, suddenly, inexplicably desperate to free that trapped thing down there. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the stone, trying to find edges or seams or a goddess damned button of some kind. She was lifted and pulled away by Marcus, who nodded to his brother.

"Now I did bring enough ordinance for that." Paulus rubbed his hands together and set the charges, using incendiary gel to shape a large rectangle. They all moved back at his signal and he let loose the trigger, the stink of burning stone filled the air as the starter charges went off and ignited the gel. They walked back and with a joint effort, heaved the loose stone away, dropping it some distance from the hole they'd made. Once the dust cleared, they all peered down into the hole.

Susan saw a human male there lying on his side in a fetal position, dark of skin, grey of hair and nude, wires and tubes and blinky lights running in and out of his skin. She slid down and dropped lightly to the side of him in this strange catacomb with its still living occupant, the two turians with her following. She looked around at all the equipment the man was hooked up to and ran a hand over her tentacles, feeling a bit lost as to how to extract him, if it was even possible. Marcus reached out to feel where the tubes connected and said, "I think these come off."

And demonstrated with a twist, the junctions came free with a hiss and he pulled his hands back as a pearlescent glowing liquid sloshed out of an end and dripped onto the raised bed the human was laying on. Susan gritted her teeth and started pulling wires, they all did. There were so many, all through the tortured flesh of the man before them and she hoped that they weren't inadvertently killing him, "You guys get back up there and I'll lift him to you."

They jumped lightly up onto the bed and lifted themselves out of the pit as she cradled the naked human in her arms. A groan, the first sound the man had made, drew her attention to his face sharply. She saw those eyelids flutter and open slightly, the brown eyes were glassy as they tried to focus on her and she smiled reassurance. A voice, harsh from disuse whispered against her skin, "Shepard...?"

"No. I'm Susan, I'm a bit too blue to be human, don't you think?" Her words fell on deaf ears as the man's eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness. She was grateful for it, didn't want the shock of the situation to push him farther toward death. Carefully, she lifted him up into Marcus' and Paulus' waiting hands, trying not to get too much of that shimmering fluid on her, it tingled wherever it made contact with her flesh. No telling what the hell it was.

Marcus and his brother offered her their hands and lifted her out of the hole. They turned at the sound of fighting, weapons out and ready. It was coming from outside and Marcus picked up the human and they all ventured carefully to the large entrance. They were looking down a long flight of stairs into a vast courtyard filled with people fighting. He saw dropships bearing UAF colors dropping troops in the center of that mass of cultists dressed like mercs and smiled grimly. Looked like Aralakh Company had also found the other end of the tunnel and called for more reinforcements. He could see krogan charging from the other end of the compound.

Susan saw a welcome sight out there, a craggy shape, familiar and good, she grinned and yelled, "Grunt!"

That worthy raised his head and laughed and she saw the small group around him push for the stairs. Marcus set the human down gently and the trio unloaded on the enemy soldiers between them and their relief force. Grunt signaled that they should start making their way down, "We'll clear a path! There's an LZ right outside the gates!"

Marcus and Paulus lifted the human between them and Susan watched their six as they hobbled down the stairs. Slowly, they shot and stabbed their way to the entrance of this complex and Grunt soon found his way to their side, looking at their package with surprise, "Jacob?"

A weak groan from the man was all he got in response and the krogan lifted that bowed head and said with a voice that was full of pity and anger, "What the hell did they do to you?"

"We need to get him to a medic." Marcus said sharply and Grunt swung his gaze to the turians flanking the naked male. Marcus saw a flash of something in the krogan's eyes as he was assessed in their blue depths, recognition maybe and the krogan waved them to the shuttle.

"There's a cruiser in orbit. It has a medbay, get him there. I have to take care of a few things here. Then stand by for debriefing." Summarily dismissed, they loaded the human they'd rescued into the shuttle and hopped in after, taking seats in its belly.

Marcus and Susan stared at each other across the small expanse and a weird feeling came over her, like this wasn't the first time this had happened and she shook it off as Paulus plopped down next to her. She turned to that grinning face and laughed, giving him a bump with her shoulder.

Paulus leaned toward her and said with mandibles stretched in good humor, "So...about that date."

She gasped in mock surprise, "We kind of have things to take care of, Paulus."

"I meant after. You know, we don't have to find a fight out in some grassy field somewhere. We can just, I don't know, go for drinks maybe."

Marcus watched his brother work the charisma he had no small supply of on the asari with a small smile on his face. Susan pretended to consider, but he could already see the answer in her eyes as she tapped her lips thoughtfully, "I don't know..."

"C'mon, it'll be fun." Paulus knew he'd already won her over, this was just part of the game now. "Don't make me beg, Susie."

She laughed, cheeks dimpling prettily, "Maybe I like it when they beg. Maybe I'd like to hear _you_ beg."

"If you want me to beg, well, we might have to do that in private."

"Alright, alright, I'll go for drinks with you, if we have time." She slapped his chestguard, feeling the blood rush hotly to her face, "Hands to yourself, though. I'm not some asari stripper to ogle and pinch."

"I'll be the perfect gentleman and I'll only pinch if you want me to." He rumbled at her as he straightened, face a triumphant smile which he turned on his brother. Marcus tipped his head in approval, smiling for him. Inside though, he thought maybe his dear brother didn't know quite what he was getting into with this formidable woman across from him. It was going to be amusing to watch, he was sure.


	7. Chapter 7

Marcus was an odd one, she decided as they all waited to be debriefed on the bridge of the UAF Mariner. If not for the movement of his eyes and the occasional blink, she'd have sworn he was as still a statue as the ones they'd left down there in that temple. So still and quiet over there where he leaned against a bulkhead, so utterly...controlled. His brother on the other hand seemed possessed by all the vitality that Marcus seemed to lack, he never stopped moving and always had a quick witty rejoinder to everything. She observed him coaxing his brother out of his deep thoughts many times in this short interim and smiled at the love and caring that was so obvious on his face. They were so alike in stature and so very different in personality. And yet they were brothers, through and through.

She wondered briefly where the other three were, the ones she met on that floating cemetery so long ago. It must be quite a thing to see them all in one place, to see them interact as family, they were so close in age to each other. She thought of her own two sisters, who seemed so young to her that it was hard to find a common thread there. She loved them dearly, but it was hard to talk about dollies all day long.

She stood to attention as Commander Jennings came out of the elevator. Her companions did the same, and they all saluted the Mariner's CO as she approached. The human woman nodded to them, "At ease. Follow me to the conference room."

They were shown to a large ovalish chamber aft of the CIC. It was ringed in QE pads and they were told to stand in the center. The overhead lights dimmed as the comms came online, the holographic images of peoples of every race flickering into being all around them. This was the council, she realized, exchanging looks with her companions. There were more than she'd realized, every race was represented, even the vorcha. It was probably the most civilized looking vorcha she'd ever seen, wearing orange robes and carrying itself with dignity and authority.

Marcus bowed at the waist and saw his companions do the same. A salarian councilor spoke, his tenor voice breaking the hush, "Describe to us exactly what you and your teams observed down on that planet."

"Private First Class T'soni was the first to make contact with the mercs in that base." Marcus gestured that she take a step forward, which she did stridently.

"I was part of an insertion team in Aralakh Company. We found an enemy outpost and after initially scouting it with drones, my acting CO made the call to move in. It seemed like a small installation, no APC's, no tanks, but we underestimated the strength of our opposition and found ourselves trapped in a tunnel underneath the compound. I requested reinforcements and we settled in to wait." She said stiffly, formally, eyes meeting theirs with confidence.

"_You _requested reinforcements?" Asked one of those ghostly images.

"Yes, my acting CO decided it would be prudent to step down. I was next in the chain of command, so it fell to me." She heard some muttering out there, too low to hear. She continued, head held high, "Lieutenant Marcus and his men came to bail us out."

It was at this point she felt it prudent to step back and let Marcus tell them the rest. He spoke up as he took a step forward, "The enemy numbers were staggering. How they amassed without notice is a puzzle, there must have been at least three hundred of them. With asari matriarchs who...attacked us."

There was a gasp at this from the asari quarter and one said in a sharp tone, "You have proof, I assume?"

A loud voice boomed through the room, "I do."

Grunt walked into the lit circle and dropped his burden in their midst. It was one of the matriarchs they'd killed, her face snarling even in death, "We found them in a temple, the temple that was at the other end of the tunnel my insertion team was trapped in."

In the stunned silence that followed, Marcus heard several whispered comments among the asari faction and one of the turian councilors said, "Do you recognize her, Councilor Adelpha?"

The asari who spoke earlier said, "That is Matriarch Tarolita. She was missing, presumed dead. Our temple on that planet has been long disused, abandoned for centuries. As was our colony there."

Grunt rolled his shoulders, "It wasn't your temple any more. It was taken over by some cultists, who dressed like mercs. That's the only reason they were being targeted in the first place. If they'd just looked like colonists, we probably would have left it be. I think we've stumbled onto something. Something...not good."

Marcus hummed thoughtfully, "If they'd looked like colonists, it would have attracted traders and ships. What are they doing that's so bad that they'd risk being targeted as mercs?"

Susan looked at him, startled at his insight. He was brilliant, this quiet turian. Paulus looked proud of his brother, who could contribute to this discussion among august leaders. Susan's inner musings were interrupted by one of the salarian councilors, "What was the cult about? What sort of worship is it? Hopefully, not blood sacrifice or any other barbarism of that sort."

Marcus again spoke, his eyes cloudy and troubled, "We didn't see evidence of that last. It looked like they were worshiping a deified Commander Shepard. And they had...statues of the people she served with around her like...saints or...prophets or something."

Susan felt that same unease again, an unease she saw reflected on Grunt and many others' faces and she was glad she wasn't alone in the feeling. The turian councilor who spoke earlier said with trepidation, "And this man you rescued, Jacob Taylor, what is his status? Can he tell us anything?"

Grunt grimaced, and Susan saw a flash of rage in his eyes, quickly cooled, "Alive, but incoherent. Whatever they did to him, he won't be able to tell us anything for quite some time."

"Doubtless, we'll learn more when we send a team in to investigate that temple."

"No you won't. I blew that abomination sky high." Grunt stated, coldly, daring any of the councilors to say anything about it. "Wrex would have done the same."

"You overstep yourself." Snapped a councilor, an ancient krogan wearing armor that was as pitted and scarred as the set Grunt was wearing. There was a growing grumble among the assembled personages as points for and against were made. Grunt stolidly glared at all opposers.

Susan shared a look with Marcus that was mixed trepidation and relief. As much as that temple and its mysteries warranted prying into, they both felt it was better destroyed than left standing. Marcus spoke, interrupting the argument he could see on the horizon, "I doubt that this is the last we've seen of these Shepard cultists, they were too well organized and armed."

"Religion is outside of the purview of this council to legislate or inhibit in any way, but if they are involved in some kind of illicit activity, then we may be empowered to intervene." An asari said, waving her hands in frustration, "We will send Spectres to look into it."

One by one the holos vanished until there was only Grunt left with them in the conference room, even Jennings had left at some point, probably to run her ship. The krogan turned to them and said, arms crossed, "Sometimes this new council seems as hopelessly ineffectual and stupid as the old one."

Paulus snorted, "Our uncle Garrus had some interesting things to say on that score."

Grunt grinned, "I'll bet he did. Well, boys, looks like I'm going to have to borrow you for a bit longer. Aralakh Company is finding all sorts of small caches of those bastards on that planet, but there's a base on the third moon that looks to have something to do with this mess and I need a small covert squad to go in there and clean that nest of vipers out. I'll send the nav point to T'soni, get your kit, there's no rest for the wicked."

Marcus spared a guilty thought for his crew on his ship, but orders were orders and he sent a brief message to them via extranet. They'd find something to do in the meantime until he got back to them. He sent another note to Aleia, just to let her know what was up so she wouldn't worry. He felt a flush at that, not sure if she would worry about him, but kind of wanting her to nonetheless. It was a confusing thought, all muddled up in his feelings for her. Maybe he should find some time to just talk to her and see where they stood on that. He definitely wanted more than just blowing off steam with her and fretted for a moment whether she wanted the same. He hoped so.

He couldn't deny a certain...eagerness to fight with Susan in his team again. It had been exhilarating and his brother looked pleased over there if his smug smirk was any clue.

Susan stopped Grunt by the elbow at the door, "Shouldn't I be down there with you, with Aralakh Company?"

"We'll have it cleared by the time you and these boys are done with that moon." He swung a blue eye to pin her and grinned, "Besides, can't you feel it?"

Susan was puzzled over what he meant by that and furrowed her brow, "Feel what?"

Grunt laughed and thumped her on her blood caked chestguard, "They're your krannt."

She thought about this little tidbit of krogan culture, krannt meant comrades, friends, people you had in your circle of trust, but the way he said it made it seem much more and she glared at him, "So are you."

Now that grin turned mischievous and pleased, he leaned toward her, "Maybe. Get a few years under your belt and then come find me. We'll see. And take a shower, asari, you stink."

She laughed, self consciously trying to rub some of the filth off her armor, "Must be pretty bad if a krogan is giving me tips on hygiene."

"Racist." He said as he nodded for her to follow the two turians who waited out in CIC. "Get a move on. Those fanatics are waiting for you to deliver them their just desserts."

She laughed as she sauntered away, throwing both hands in the air in a gesture of amused and resigned compliance. "Yeah, yeah, that's me, number one delivery girl."

Paulus grinned as she caught up to them and she grinned back, Marcus also smiled, albeit bemusedly as he led them to the shuttle bay.

* * *

She punched her medigel dispenser but it was fried and leaned her head back on a bulkhead, sighing. She wiped blood out of her eye for the fourth time and looked over to where Marcus was messing with the terminal they'd found at the heart of this compound, past what seemed like a whole army of Cerberus soldiers and mechs. "Find anything?"

"They wiped it, probably when the alarms went off." He rolled his shoulders as he looked at her where she sat trying to get a bandage to stick to her sweatslicked skin. Her shoulder armor lay cracked on the ground in front of her as she fought with the adhesive strip. Paulus was at the door looking back the way they came, covering their asses and he was grateful for it, sending a silent thank you to his brother with his eyes.

Exhaustion was starting to creep in around the edges, but he felt exultant as well. The fighting had been intensely gratifying, and he made a mental note to have Susan transferred permanently to his team, they just worked too well together, the three of them. Marcus suppressed any qualms he might be feeling around the edges of his conscience for stealing her from Aralakh Company. Already he was imagining the strategies he would employ for his team. He was excited to see what all five of them could do. What couldn't they do? It was going to be fun to find out exactly where their limits lie. He watched her pick up her armor with a frown of consternation on her face and said, "I think it's scrap. You're going to need a new set."

"Damn. I just bought this armor last month. First real deployment and I'm getting all shot up." She grimaced and tossed the useless armor to the side. And then she wiped angrily at her bloody brow, "Fucking scalp wound keeps bleeding into my eye."

"Here." He crouched next to her and pulled out a spare medigel pouch, tore it carefully open and smeared it over that deep gash, tutting under his breath, "You really shouldn't try to catch bullets with your face, this one almost made it through your shields."

Marcus glanced down and was caught in a green stare, she was looking at him with a touch of bewilderment and he felt a strange feeling, something he didn't recognize in this context. His guts gave a little flip and he tore his gaze away from her with difficulty, "Paulus, still clear?"

"I think we got them al-." Suddenly, the wall behind them exploded and they all scrambled for cover. Paulus peered from behind his crate, yelling, "Atlas!"

Before he could pull her back, Susan leaned out and tossed a warp at the thing, which strode toward them with slow inexorable steps, a juggernaut of steel. He yanked her back with a snarl, "You don't have any spirits damned shields."

She glared at him, icy green eyes flashing dangerously and he hardened his gaze, challenging her to disobey him and she relented, with a laugh, "Alright, LT, go get him."

His brows raised at how mercurial her moods were, one second angry, the next jovial and turned to his brother, "You still have some grenades?"

"A few. Where?"

"Try to stick some to that canopy so I can crack that nut." He pulled out his sniper rifle and loaded it with AP ammo, scoping in on the advancing mech just as the first bomb was lobbed. In the wake of the ensuing explosion he could see a crack in the glass protecting the pilot, who was just a shadowy silhouette within that cockpit. He planted a bullet right in that seam and grinned as the whole thing shattered, exposing a very surprised human face. He took a breath to steady his aim, preternaturally aware that the mech's weapon was coming to bear on him, but it seemed so slow, slow as treacle. His blood pounded in his ears as the crosshairs lined up on that face and let the air slowly, gently out of his lungs as he squeezed the trigger, the whole world was the scope, just him and what was in his scope. Moments later, the head that was the focus of all his attention exploded in a shower of gore. He watched the corpse tip to one side in fascination.

Susan watched the almost lazy ease with which that Atlas pilot was dispatched with awe, her eyes widening as the Atlas toppled over. Paulus crowed and clapped his brother on the shoulder, knocking that intense turian out of his reverie. Marcus blinked a few times as he seemed to come back to himself and returned his brother's grin with one of his own. Susan stood, noting absently that her scalp wound had stopped bleeding. Two bullets, that's all it had really taken, well, and a bit of ordinance, and a heavily armed and armored machine was scrap. The skill that implied was...intimidating. She turned wondering eyes on that turian, who was shrugging off his brother's praise.

Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she pointed, "Was that light blinking before?"

Marcus turned to the monitor and scrambled over to it with unseemly haste, "Someone's opened a live link with it."

"Vid?" Paulus' voice was hopeful as he moved to look over his brother's shoulder. Susan squeezed in to see and only saw a blinking prompt on that screen.

Marcus shook his head in frustration, "No, just text."

And he typed a command into the machine and it scrolled a short message, a cryptic thing of many abbreviations, '_Delta CP compromised. AJT taken. ZM acquired. Status?'_

"Can we trace it?" Susan breathed and Marcus typed rapidly, trying to tap the signal, trace it back to its source. He growled in frustration as the programming eluded him momentarily, wishing Sanders were here and felt his mandibles flex as he found the way. Slippery, but doable, he input the key sequences just as the link dropped and they all expelled the breaths they were holding in relief as coordinates popped up.

He dumped the data onto his omnitool and said, "Let's go."

"Right behind you." Susan said, falling into his wake with his brother as he led them back to the shuttle.


	8. Chapter 8

It was another two weeks before he was able to signal his ship to come pick them up on the Citadel. Mission after mission chasing ghosts it seemed as the cultists seemed to catch on that they were being hunted and disappeared. And as many as they had managed to kill, there were still more and more. There was no end to them. He wondered if some of the colonies had been converted, if that's where they were getting their manpower. Marcus resolved to pass that idea off the next time they were being debriefed.

He missed his ship, his crew. He missed Aleia, the way her plates caught the light, the rich blue of her eyes haunted his dreams, made him ache for her bittersweetly when he woke. He waited for the shuttle to dock at the docking ring and watched his brother flirt with Susan. He had to admit that without her, they wouldn't have been able to do half the things they'd done so far. It still amazed him how she anticipated his orders, how she deftly wove herself into the fabric of their strategies like she could read his mind sometimes. She impressed, and what was even more impressive was how little field experience she actually had, and yet she grasped every angle with ease, took on unconventional tactics with aplomb.

And she was the oddest asari he'd ever come across. She didn't move like one, for one. Hers were bursts of dynamic energy, savage but controlled, most asari moved with a graceful sort of lassitude, soft circular motions while she was all darting quickness. He puzzled it over as his brother said something that made her laugh. It was a far cry from the amused chuckles most of that blue race subscribed to. Open and full, it filled the space of the shuttle, infectiously. He felt a tug at his mandible and frowned, he hadn't even heard what had been funny, why would he feel the need to smile? It was strange.

He was well aware that he wasn't the...jolliest sort, it often took great effort on his part to participate in social banter. His brother was the extrovert, had the often underrated, but always welcome ability to make him laugh or smile. It was something he cherished about his sibling, because try as he might, he often felt unable to do so on his own. In his memory, a kind voice whispered, '_Laugh more. It'll make you old before your time to be so dour all the time.'_

Maybe he'd find more reasons to smile once he saw Aleia, give her the token he'd commissioned a few weeks ago via extranet. He'd received a message that morning that it was ready and was heartily pleased to note that they were docking at the Citadel later that day. No better proof of providence needed. His heart jumped madly at the thought of finally telling her how he really felt. He let his mind wander to half realized hopes for the future, a home, children. A bright future indeed.

He gathered his bag and walked out of the shuttle first, just as it rocked to a stop. Paulus and Susan called farewells to him as they left together along the path of the commons toward the diner. Presumably for their date. He couldn't begrudge them, in this rare respite some shoreleave was very welcome. And alone, he could better plan the upcoming thing with his hopefully soon to be wife, if she...returned his feelings that is. A spike of anxiety filled him as he ventured towards the jeweler's shop and he fretted silently.

The volus shopkeeper swiveled in his chair as Marcus walked in, "How may I assist you today?"

"I'm here to pick up something."

"Name?"

"Vakarian." The volus shot him a look, unreadable behind his envirosuit's mask, but he didn't have to guess the reason. It hadn't been that long after all since his uncle was primarch, before that title had been dissolved to relinquish governorship of the turian Heirarchy to council rule. And the man had been much loved. Marcus looked around at the establishment's wares while the shopkeeper typed at his keyboard.

"Ah, here it is." The volus reached under the counter and produced a small padded box and Marcus picked it up, opening it to check its contents. A slim wristlet made from rare Palaven metals lay within, its deep brushed bronze-ish gleam meeting his eyes. He imagined seeing it against her dark plates and it sent a hot rush under his plates, he swallowed to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. Three stones were set in its top, an earth stone called lapis lazuli, the name had charmed him as much as the color. The exact shade of her eyes.

He closed the box with a sigh, enormously pleased with it and paid the volus the other half of what was owed. It was perfect and befitting the perfect mate he'd found in Aleia. He sent a message to her from his omnitool, telling her where to meet him and he strolled to a restaurant he knew had excellent cuisine to wait for her.

"Marcus?" A voice made him look up from his table and he smiled to see who it was.

"Damalia! Sister, how are you?" He stood and embraced his sister warmly, looking into her face with its steely plates and blue markings. Grey eyes stared intently back at him from it and he thought she looked tired, but was still the same stern female she'd always been.

"I'm good. Came back from the rim to report."

"Same here," He gestured to the seat next to him, "Sit, sit! I was just waiting for Aleia. She's supposed to meet me here when my ship docks."

Damalia sat, shoulders stiffly straight and lifted her brow plates at him, one mandible flicking in interest, "Oh? Still seeing her, hmm?"

Marcus nodded, taking a sip of his drink, trying to quell the nervousness that seemed to want to bubble up in him. "Thinking about marrying her."

Damalia smiled over her steepled fingers at him in approval, "It's a good match. Are you going to have the ceremony at the estate?"

"When I have time, Dama. I was hoping to borrow the garden." Outwardly, he didn't react at all to her nod, but he felt a grateful flush nonetheless when she nodded.

"Of course, dear brother. The estate would have been yours in any case if you hadn't passed your inheritance to me. I warn you though, it is over run with those flowers our dear uncle planted. I've had to curtail their growth outside of our valley." Damalia squeezed his hand where it lay on the table, mandibles flexed in a grin, then her gaze hardened, "So what did your team find on the rim."

He silently debated what to tell her, having not had time to debrief the council as yet, but her Spectre status allayed his fears and he said, "These cultists are finding ways to out think us. They're never where the recon reports say they'll be and more 'temples' of The Shepard are being found."

Damalia made a frustrated sound in her throat and leaned back in her chair, "I suspect that there is a leak, or several. They may send me to do some...infiltration."

He rumbled, "That's bound to be dangerous. What'll happen if you're caught? I doubt that these fanatics are going to just let you go."

She waved her hand dismissively, "I'm a Spectre. I'm expected to tempt death every time I go outside of council space."

He smiled knowingly at her, "And don't you just love it."

"I do." She echoed his smile and then looked around for a moment, her gaze drifting over the commons and its peaceful parks. Then she swiveled her eyes to look at him askance, her voice so soft he had to strain to hear it, "Do you ever think of that time we saw her?"

"I...try not to." Marcus glanced around to see if there were any curious ears about.

"I think about it all the time. How is it possible?" Damalia sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly, "Saints, spirits, gods, I liked my job better when it stayed within the realm of the knowable. Do you know how hard it is to convince people that there is no 'The Shepard' when you've seen her?"

Marcus watched her narrowly as her brows furrowed and a grimace tugged at her mouth and said, with all the conviction he could muster, "There is no 'The Shepard', Dama. This whole cult thing is just wrong."

"Then explain it, Marcus. How? _Why?" _She sighed and he saw her consciously relax herself. They'd neither of them ever been the...easiest to placate and he felt a touch of alarm that her inborn need to know was going to land her in serious trouble out there, in the company of those madmen. She chuffed ruefully at his expression, "No worries, big brother, I'll be careful."

"I don't know why we saw what we saw, Alia, or how. But I feel, in my soul, that this whole thing, is just not right."

She made a noncommittal noise in her throat and stood, "Well, I see your blushing bride approaching so I'll take my leave of you so you two can have some privacy. I have to go report anyway."

He stood as well and they embraced, he fought the urge to cling to her. She was a Spectre, she could handle herself, he admonished himself silently and waved her off and turned to see the most welcome sight he'd seen in however long.

Aleia flung herself into his arms and he held her tightly, reveling in the feel of her so close, her smell filling his nostrils. He felt a trembling in his arms and willed it away as he looked down into her eyes, which sparkled at him, his voice rolled out of him in a soft rumble, "I missed you, Aleia. So very much."

There was a long pause in which he felt a growing nervousness and she smiled chidingly, "I missed you, too, Marcus. Did you have fun without us?"

He ducked his head, feeling guilty, "I'd have brought you in, Aleia, you know that, if it hadn't been for orders. We were hitting two or three enemy encampments a day, there was no time to send a message, let alone try to meet up somewhere."

They sat and ordered some food and he found it quite impossible to not stare at her, over there with her head cocked coyly, watching him watch her. His blood was rushing hotly through his body at the knowing intent he found in her eyes, telling him in not so many words that she knew exactly what she did to him and how much she liked it. His mouth dried at the rush of images that plagued his brain and she said, "Was that your sister I just saw leaving?"

"Yes, she's back to report."

She made a disappointed mewl in her throat, "Shame she didn't stay, it would have been nice to catch up with my old schoolmate."

"She said she wanted us to have some privacy." He swallowed as her keen gaze shifted sharply to him and that box with its token within it never seemed heavier.

"Oh? And why would we need privacy?" She leaned toward him, mandible flexing into a wicked grin and gestured elegantly around them, "This is hardly private."

"No...but it's, uh, appropriate. For what I have to say." He cleared his throat and reached for her hand, capturing her gaze with his and his heart thumped painfully when she squeezed his hand back, her face inviting, open to whatever he had to impart to her. He resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck nervously and just took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush, "I love you, Aleia."

He fidgeted as the silence between them grew, doubts were eating at him as every second passed with no response from her. Time seemed to slow and his focus tightened on her mouth as it opened, he tried not to think of what he would do if she denied him and his heart pounded in his ears so hard that he almost didn't hear her reply, "I love you, too, Marcus."

Relief, like a tide of cool water, rushed through him and he almost went limp in the wake of it, shakily pulling out the box with its treasure inside it, turning to see her reaching for her own carry all and a joyous feeling welled up in him as he spied a thin wide ring of beaten gold in her hand. Wordlessly, for which he was grateful, because there were no words he could find for this...emotional zenith he'd reached, they passed each other their tokens. He slid hers on his wrist, marveling how it really did seem to yank at his heart somehow, from where it was there in plain sight, proof that he'd given her his heart, forevermore.

A noise of consternation rose from the other side of the table and he dragged his eyes away from that bright circle of promises to see her brow plates furrow. "What's wrong?"

"The clasp, it's broken." She set the thing to the side with a sigh and he reached for it, in alarm. She waved him off with a smile, "No matter, Marcus. I'll get it fixed. My heart is yours, symbols aside."

He frowned, about to say something when their food arrived. He watched her finger the wristlet on the table between thumb and forefinger and after swallowing his food said, with a quaver of uncertainty, "Do you like it?"

She laughed and nodded, much to his relief, "It's beautiful. What are these stones here?"

"They're from Earth. They're called lapis lazuli." He met her eyes and poured all his love for her into them, "I chose them because they're the exact same shade of blue as your eyes."

She smiled coquettishly and said in a teasing tone, "Marcus Vakarian, I do believe that under your grim exterior, you're a romantic."

He raised his brows at her, "I've never been accused of that before, if I have romantic inclinations now, I think we can safely blame that on you."

She laughed delightedly, downing her glass of wine and watched her throat ripple with a burgeoning desire to taste that hide there and shifted as his lower plates twitched at the thought. She reached across the table and lightly ran her hand over his forearm and he felt that inner trembling again. His control was waning and grew even thinner as she drew little circles on the back of his hand with her talon, the sensation shooting up his arm deliciously. Unbidden, a low growl started in his throat and she grinned darkly at him, her eyes full of mystery.

"If you don't stop doing that, I'm going to take you here." He said softly, focusing on her face, her eyes were half lidded but her pupils were huge, with the barest ring of sapphire around their deep depths. He felt like he could get lost in them easily, irretrievably.

She chuckled, "Ship's in port. Though I am quite interested in finding out if I can drive you mad right here."

He felt her hand on his knee under the table and almost groaned as she used her talons to scratch lightly at the flesh of his inner thigh through the cloth, causing electric shocks to jolt up into his groin. He stood abruptly and paid for the meal with a swipe of his omnitool, she pocketed the broken wristlet and put her hand in his impatiently outstretched one, laughing at his barely restrained march to the docks as she obediently followed.

The hiss of the inner airlock brought him relief and anticipation and he yanked Aleia into his arms, carrying her to his bunk, her slight weight seeming to be none at all with his blood pumping madly through his body. He nuzzled her jaw and she hissed in appreciation, reaching up to fondle the area under his fringe. He did groan then, his cock jumping in his pants. He noted as he walked at a near run that the privacy lock on his brother's door was engaged, "Huh, guess their date went well."

Aleia hummed a question at his neck and he shook his head, "I'll explain later."

He felt her teeth graze his throat and all thoughts of his brother and who he might have in there with him flew out the window and he growled, low, his talons, blunt as they were, scoring her back and she moaned into him, making him pant in need. He set her on her feet and turned to lock the door behind them, it's lock turning red.

When he turned back, she was sitting on his bed, facing him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. He made to lunge for her and she held up a graceful hand, "Wait."

It took a lot of his remaining control to stop, but he managed it, swallowing thickly. He waited, his whole body screaming in protest.

"Let's play a little game." She said, her soft voice a tantalizing growl. He trembled as his cock threatened to emerge fully just from the wanton promise in it.

"Anything for you." Viciously, he stifled the urge to reach for her, his pulse hammering away at him.

"Hmm, I like that. I think that's what we'll call this game." She stood and removed her clothing, slowly, revealing the clean beautiful planes of her body to his lust filled eyes. His hands twitched spasmodically as she stalked toward him and he made to grab her and she deftly moved back out of range. He nearly growled in frustration and she said, her voice never shifting from that same smooth cadence, "Rule one, no touching until I say."

He did growl then, his voice nearly a keen of need and that made her smile a small smile of satisfaction. He shifted his now fully unplated and stiff cock to a more comfortable position and she chided, "That includes yourself. Kneel."

He dropped obediently, hands on his thighs and she made a circuit around him, her hand ghosting along his shoulders. He quaked under her touch, ached to feel more and leaned into her hand. She chuckled at his display of need and moved to the bed again, sitting and leaning back on her elbow, back arched erotically. He yearned to close his eyes for relief but couldn't as she ran one of those hands over her hip, over that tiny waist all the way up to her collarbones, which stood out in sharp contrast to her dark plates, "Rule two, if you say something I like, you can crawl just a little closer."

She was driving him mad, he could feel the control slipping, but she wanted this, so he tamped down his raging desire for her, only for her. He barely choked out past clenched mandibles, "What do you want me to say?"

She pulled one of those lovely gleaming legs up onto the bed, spreading her thighs slightly to show him her slightly unplated secret place and he moaned hoarsely, tongue rubbing the roof of his mouth, trying to find some kind of moisture in its arid cavern. He longed to taste her and she sighed, smiling faintly as she watched him fight for control, "Tell me how much you desire me."

"I want you, I want to taste all of you, I want to feel you slide around me." He crawled a few feet forward as she beckoned with one long taloned finger. Aleia used her other hand to tease her own plates between her legs and he shivered at how very sinful it seemed, his cock a throbbing heavy weight between his own legs, its tip bobbed as his stomach muscles flexed, he gestured down at it, "See what you do to me?"

"Mmmmm, now tell me what you want to do to me." She was the picture of seduction over there, out of immediate reach as he panted and fought against the ever increasing urge to leap upon her and skewer her upon his shaft.

"I want to...fuck you, I want to pound you into the bed until you're screaming my name," She flipped over onto her knees and looked at him over her shoulder, beckoning that he come just a bit closer, which he did, he could see her opening widen as she presented to him. He licked his mouthplates as he crawled toward her, feeling so debased as he did. Only she could do this to him, compromise him with just a few words so thoroughly.

"Like this? On my hands and knees?" She flashed him a wicked grin as he nodded, robbed of words. He was so close now, she was a few scant inched from his face, he could see the glistening inner folds of her past her plates and he leaned forward instinctively. She leaned away, admonishing gently, "Not yet, my love."

He growled, his voice almost a whine, "What more can I do? Tell me and it will be yours."

She locked her gaze on his and said, her voice flat and deadly serious, "Tell me you're mine."

His control snapped like a wire under strain and the next thing he knew, he was above her pumping furiously into that sweet hot channel, its friction a blessing as he cried out, "I'm yours! All that I am is yours! Forever!"

Their lovemaking was a furious dance between pain and pleasure and they writhed on that bed for what was surely hours, but to him felt like years. Her body arched into his with every stroke and her talons scratched his sides to the point of drawing blood. He lost track of how many times he emptied his seed into her womb, there was only the dizzying rush of ecstasy, the molten slide of her plates on his, the feel of her teeth buried in his shoulder and he held back from doing the same, it was the only thing he felt he _could_ stop from doing. He'd never hurt her, it was anathema, it was blasphemy to mar that perfect hide.

Finally, after eons, they fell together onto that sweatsoaked bed, gasping like fish out of water in exhaustion. She rested on his chest and touched the wristlet on his wrist with fingers shaking from effort and whispered, "You're mine."

He couldn't agree more, body and soul, he was hers.


	9. Chapter 9

"Why, I do believe you're trying to get me drunk." She laughed at him as he led her into Chora's Den, a dingy little dive that was a far cry from the booming riot that was Purgatory. She'd eschewed going there, too many people, not intimate enough and he'd readily agreed.

Paulus shrugged, "Maybe...I think I'm more interested in a couple of laughs and a couple of drinks."

"Are you saying I amuse you?" Susan slapped his arm playfully as they found a seat in one of the empty booths.

"I think we could do a great job amusing each other." He leered at her and she laughed again at his disarming tactics.

"Why is everything out of your mouth innuendo?" She dropped her chin in her hand as she smiled up at him, trying for coy but probably looking quite a bit silly.

He leaned down to hover inches from her burningly hot face, mandibles flicking idly, "I don't think I've made it a secret that I find you desirable. Can I help it when certain thoughts occur to me in your company? I think not."

"I don't think you're trying very hard not to think those thoughts." She looked out into the smoky bar for a moment, to collect her wits in the face of that intense stare. But when she looked back, there it was again, scattering her thoughts like tiny birds. Her mouth dried as Paulus leaned just a tiny bit closer, so close she could smell the spicy nut scent of him. All their time together in the field, all the touches and flirting and this was the most distracting thing about him, she found herself wondering if he tasted as good as he smelled. She whispered, "What about me do you find so desirable?"

He rumbled at her, she could feel it on her flushed skin, teasing, vibrating and he said, with honest tones, "You're beautiful. And you're so very deadly. I have to adjust my armor every time you shoot somebody."

She shivered, feeling her cheeks warm even more, wondering what color her blushes were, if it made her bluer, "I didn't know watching someone pull a trigger could be a fetish."

"When you do it, it is. You get this little smile on your face, and your eyes glow." He waved a hand vaguely, looking into the memory of it, she guessed by the faraway look in his eyes.

She locked gazes with him, those shining grey eyes so close to her, filling her field of vision and she echoed softly, "They glow?"

"Yeah, like fire. I wonder if you could burn me up with that fire sometimes." She watched his eyelids drop and a shudder rolled through his body. That she could affect him so had her pulse racing and she leaned back to cool her face with her hands, shooting him looks of wonder. Paulus looked concerned for a moment, asking with his head tilted, "What's the matter? Did I say something wrong?"

"I've just...never done anything like this before." She admitted with a touch of embarrassment and reached out a hand to reassure him, squeezing his in hers lightly. He covered it with his other hand and she felt that heat rushing again at the pleasantly rough sensation of his palms rubbing her skin, wondering if they felt that good all over her body and she looked away hastily, swallowing nervously.

"I understand. We'll take it slow." She smiled her thanks at him and he signaled the waitress to bring them drinks. Paulus rubbed her hand between his two and rumbled, with another disarming grin, "It's going to be difficult, though, to control myself around you."

She laughed, "Can I have my hand back?"

"No." He said with playful petulance, but releasing it nonetheless. She still felt the contact as a pleasant burning sensation and flushed again at her own naughty thoughts. The drinks came and they talked lightly of insignificant matters and she was relishing how simple this was, this interaction between man and woman and wondered again why she'd never attempted it before. She supposed she never found someone to want to attempt it with until now. Some men had seemed too young and others too old, she was aware that the anomaly was within herself. This young oldness in her. There were often times where she felt out of place, disjointed. Only now, with Paulus and his brother did she feel at one with a group, part of it in some fundamental way. It was exhilarating.

A few drinks later and taking it slow had never been harder. She found herself making excuses to touch him, to feel those warm plates under her fingers and the way he responded with a rumble or a laugh, he was liking it very much. She started to ache in places, places she was starting to wish he'd touch with those marvelous rough hands of his. But as promised, he was the perfect gentleman and it was frustrating her to no end.

Finally, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his mouthplates, almost melting when she heard him growl in the most seductive way. His arms came around her and she was pressed tightly to his chest as his tongue came out to entwine with hers. _That's...new,_ she thought with a touch of shock, then her eyes rolled back into her head, _and so very nice._

He pulled back for a moment and searched her eyes, saying with a laugh, "What happened to taking it slow?"

She nibbled at his jaw and said, voice hoarse with desire, "Fuck it."

Paulus rumbled in amusement and swooped in for another kiss, trailing little nips all the way down her neck. It felt divine and she reached up to touch him under the fringe and he moaned into her neck, before saying, "I thought you'd never done this before."

"I haven't." She rubbed the skin there, it was soft, like suede, the little pebbles of scales smooth under her fingertips and then said uncertainly, pausing what she was doing, "Is that okay? Am I hurting you?"

He laughed, "No, that's a, um, really good place to touch. But if you don't stop, I'm afraid we're going to end up giving these people a show."

"Where? A hotel?" She said, gathering her things swiftly. He led her out toward the docks.

"Our ship is in port, I have a room there." He looked at her over his shoulder, and said with a wicked smirk, "A room with a lock."

She giggled giddily, feeling very adolescent all of a sudden. She tried to beat back the welling feelings of weak kneed caprice and failed to her dismay and delight. They made their way to the right airlock and she stopped as she looked out the windows, past the small Mark II that was Paulus' home to another ship that was just now disembarking, pulling away from the docks with regal slowness for a ship of its size. It was sleek and somehow familiar, "Is that the...?"

Paulus smiled at her entranced expression, "Yeah, the Normandy."

She watched it with childlike glee as it sped past her, its clean lines slicing through the air, "She's beautiful."

"Eh. She's old, I'm surprised they haven't decommissioned her yet. Soon she'll be too outdated to fly for the UAF any more." Paulus tugged at her hand gently and she followed him at a sedate pace, trying to puzzle out why she would feel such a pang of sadness at the thought. Maybe because of the history of the vessel. Her mother served on it as well as Paulus' uncle. So much had happened around that frigate, like it was the eye of a hurricane. It would be nice to think of it going on forever, flying forever.

She dismissed that train of thought as they found themselves in an airlock and Paulus leaned down to press his mouthplates to her lips. Heat flooded through her at the contact and her body remembered her ardor from earlier and she reached up to fondle his neck and their bodies were pressed so tightly together that she felt the loosening of his lower plates against the top of her hipbone. Along with the sensation of something prodding her gently in the belly. She gasped as she reached down to touch it, and he moaned as her hand encircled his girth, leaning against the wall of the airlock as she explored his manhood.

It seemed so large in her fist, she could barely get her hand wrapped around it and she experimentally squeezed, delighting in the way his hips bucked like he had no control over them. It struck her suddenly that this was really happening, was going to happen and she swallowed nervously. Too late to back out now, she'd heard bad things said about women who did that and she could never do that to Paulus.

He led her to a small cabin in a row of small cabins, all identical that she could see, just large enough for a single occupant, or two if they didn't mind it cozy. She flushed as she thought of how cozy she was planning on getting with Paulus. She squeaked as he lifted her up and deposited her on the bed. He started undressing slowly, making a playful show of it, his face a smoldering, but ridiculous sneer. She laughed and felt nervousness drain from her and he grinned at her, showing her that he wanted her to relax.

He leaned over her and she slid her palms over his smooth plates and the skin between them, he seemed so very predator like to her, his planes and ridges not sharp, but appearing so in the low light of this small room. Aesthetically pleasing in the same way a gun or a knife was. Only the look in his eyes, the soft tender gleam of them assured her of his intent, allayed her fears and she trembled in gratitude to the powers that be for it being him for her first time. She trusted him as she'd trusted no one before, except perhaps for his brother, but that was a different sort of regard and she let the thought go as she felt those rough palms on her flesh at last, pulling her clothing off, kneading her flesh in all the places she'd yearned for them to.

He didn't seem to mind doing all the work of undressing her, seemed to enjoy it in fact and she watched him sigh deeply as her last piece of modesty was finally stripped away. She looked up at him as he took in the sight of her nude body and felt a quiver between her legs at the look in his eye. Slowly, so slowly she wanted to scream, he touched her everywhere, methodically working her into a lather, he avoided her intimate areas maddeningly and she rubbed her thighs together to try to find relief, delighting that it only seemed to make her hotter, make that part of her ache more, not less. Finally, he reached down and teased her nipples with his tongue, it's pebbly surface so excitingly stimulating that she arched into it helplessly.

He rumbled amusement at her and trailed his talons down her belly, dipping it slowly into her dripping crevice. Now he made a noise of approval, humming against her breast and she cried out when one of his fingers found her opening and played with its erogenous rim. She felt it like a lightning strike all the way up through her spine and arched off the bed and still he ran his finger around that most sensitive part of her. Waves of hot rushing sensations ran their fiery course through her, building to an all encompassing heat and she screamed hoarsely as she climaxed hard, pumping her hips into his hand. Slowly, she came down from that high, knowing from the way the sheets clung to her that her body was soaked with sweat.

She looked down to find him with his face between her legs and had just enough time to figure out what he was about to do when the slow swipe of that rough tongue silenced her thoughts completely. She shook under his tender ministrations, his tongue lapping at her and delving into her alternately, calling out his name as she reached another world shattering orgasm and he crawled up her body to nestle his cock between her legs and she trembled with a touch of fear. Paulus looked down into her face calmly, stroking her brow gently, a smile stretching his mandibles as he asked, "Are you ready?"

She swallowed back the fear and nodded, opening her legs wider for him as he slowly thrust into her. She expected pain and there was pain, a sharp pain just past her opening and she cried out and he made as if to pull away and she stopped him with her hands on his buttocks and his eyes rolled back as he continued to press forward. She'd known there would be pain, but what she hadn't expected was the pleasure, the magnitudes of pleasure that washed over her as she was slowly being filled to the brim with that part of him that was made for that part of her, no matter that their species weren't the same, in this regard they were.

Paulus stopped when he was fully seated in her and looked down at her with loving regard, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, amazed that he could be so calm, so collected in the face of this and with a patience she'd never expected of him with his brash and impulsive ways, he moved in her, pulling out slowly and pushing back in with equal steadiness. She felt the delicious friction of every bump and ridge of him as he moved in that timeless rhythm as a shot of molten heat right through the core of her and the pressure of it built within in her to blinding intensity and she shattered over and over again around him as he moved with no sign of stopping any time soon.

She felt him fill her several times, his organ pulsing in time with his heart, but his pace never stopped, only sped up incrementally as he sought to bring her pleasure time and time again. And as she watched him pursue his own pleasure relentlessly, she captured his face in her hands and whispered, "Embrace eternity."

They were both flung into a place that was light and dark, there was no gravity, no air, just limbs spinning, entwining in space, just the rhythm of their lovemaking and she felt the bright song of his desire and growing affection for her and returned it wholeheartedly. Music, pure and beautiful, poured into her mind as they melded in that timeless place and she felt a deep, deep part of her howl in exultation at the joy the coupling pair were finding in its towering shadow. She felt peace drift upon her, pulling her back to her body where it lay in the arms of her spent lover and she opened her eyes to see his astounded ones staring back at her.

He lifted himself up to one elbow and looked down at her and she reached up to touch his face tenderly. Her lover, strong and brave, worthy and she felt humbled that so bright a spirit would touch hers like that, so lovingly, in the meld. She'd chosen well for her first time indeed. Maybe this would be a lasting thing, what they had. For now, she was content and let her eyes drift closed and welcomed the ache of her body as proof that something significant had happened and that she'd been lucky enough to share it. Paulus settled himself around her, curling his long body protectively about her looking for all the world like a female varren with her cubs and she smiled at the fanciful image and let her mind go to that place where dreams could find her and fill her with more fanciful visions.


	10. Chapter 10

Marcus took his time making sure the bandages were covered by his loose shirt before leaving his cabin, not wanting to invite any uncomfortable questions. He made his way to the ship's small galley and found his brother there, pensively staring into his cha with a faraway look in his eye. As he made his own cup, he kept glancing at Paulus, who didn't even seem to notice him there, who was abnormally still at that table. Oddly, it reminded him of when they were much younger and he'd tried to teach his brother stillness, like their uncle had taught him. Paulus had had no patience for it then, it was so completely at odds with his dynamic personality, but seeing him now...

Marcus wondered what had so taken his brother's attention that not even the presence of another person had disrupted it. He frowned as he sat opposite of Paulus, and just observed the way those eyes were unfocused, how they seemed to look into some far place. It was a tad eerie and Marcus cleared his throat, "Paulus."

Slowly, that blank face turned to him and sense seemed to trickle back into it. Paulus sighed and blinked, "Marcus, hey."

"Hey yourself. What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

Paulus ducked his head, abashedly and waved a hand toward his cabin, "Oh, I, uh, was thirsty and didn't want to wake Susan."

"Ah, ha! So it was Susan in there with you. I saw the lock." He smiled at his brother, who took a huge gulp of his now cold beverage. Marcus sipped his own thoughtfully as his brother resumed staring into space, expression unreadable and broke into his reverie before he could go too deep, "So what's the matter?"

"What?" Paulus seemed confused for a moment, tilting his head as he looked at Marcus.

"Well, you're out here and not in there wooing our fair asari, so tell me, what's up?" This was an invasive line of questioning that he was sure would provoke anger if it had been anyone else, but they were family, family was forgiven prying...usually.

Paulus swallowed and glanced at the closed door of his cabin before leaning toward Marcus, his voice hesitant, "You know how asari do that 'embrace eternity' thing?"

"You know better than I, brother of mine." He sipped his beverage with cocked brow, not saying that Paulus' inclinations toward the blue race had always been a bit...enthusiastic. There was nothing wrong with that, it was just a preference, like liking sweet over savory.

The turian across from him sighed deeply and said, "Well, usually, it's a laugh, melding just makes all the...sensations better, stronger, you can feel what your...partner likes and vice versa. But with Susan..."

He wasn't sure if he really wanted to hear about his brother's conquests, but this...strangeness that seemed to have come over Paulus begged to be investigated, and he coaxed, "But with Susan...?"

Paulus rested his chin in his hand and mused in a quiet awe-stricken voice, "Have you ever heard or seen something that changed you, at your heart, changed the very core of you?"

Marcus contemplated this silently, philosophical exposition was very out of character for his normally ebulliently shallow brother and shook his head, "Not so much as I'd noticed. So you are changed, is what you're saying, by whatever it was you saw when you were melding with Susan."

Those grey eyes unfocused and his brother whispered, "There was music, Marcus-"

"Music? Whose music?" Aleia stepped down from the cockpit, where she'd taken over for Kinz, who'd gone out into the Citadel with Ushal, they were in port anyway, so someone was needed in the off hours to field comms, check the stationwide feeds for pertinent data.

Marcus half turned to look at his bondmate with a smile and opened his mouth, but started when Paulus tapped his wrist three times warningly, it was an old code they'd used when they were kids, it meant best not to tell the parents. He shot a look of understanding at his brother and said, "We were just talking about the latest music on extranet, love."

"Love?" Paulus seemed to notice the gold wristlet for the first time and his mandibles spread in pleased shock and he reached over to squeeze Marcus' shoulder, "So, you finally did it. Congratulations, you two. When's the wedding?"

"Whose wedding?" Came a sleepy female voice from the right. Susan, clothing rumpled, stood at the door to Paulus' cabin, yawning hugely as she rubbed her eyes free of sleep. She turned to see Aleia, who was watching her with an amused expression on her face, "Oh, hello."

Marcus stood and walked over to his bondmate, nuzzling her jaw briefly, "Susan, this is Aleia, my bondmate."

Susan walked over and clasped Aleia's hand warmly, "Pleased to meet you. You were in the Marcus' squad that came to rescue us in those tunnels, weren't you?"

"I was, as was Sanders, but he's on shore leave. I'm sure you'll be meeting him later." Susan looked up into the elegant female's face, feeling just a tad overwhelmed at the sheer poise there in those blue eyes. An uneasiness settled over her under that intimidating stare and she nearly started when Paulus' arm came around her shoulders and she shot a grateful look up at him, which was answered with a cheeky grin. Aleia cleared her throat and Marcus swung his face toward her, "The council wants us to meet with them. Debriefings, I'm sure."

Marcus felt a touch of chagrin at having forgotten all about the council in the wake of Aleia's acceptance of his token and said, "Alright, get your kit, people. We move in fifteen."

Susan leaned close to Paulus, and whispered, "Is that enough time for a shower?"

"Maybe..." Paulus walked her to the small bathroom and said with a rumble, "If I help."

She gasped in mock shock and looked into the small shower cubicle, "I don't think there's room for two in there."

"You'd be surprised." And she was, thoroughly.

* * *

"They asked me questions, hundreds of questions. About Shepard, about all of us." Marcus watched the madness flicker over that haggard human face uneasily. Jacob Taylor, formerly of Shepard's crew, ran a shaking hand over his grey hair, his scars from the recent trauma of his incarceration apparent, even the invisible ones. Susan at his side looked like she might be sick, had seemed nauseated by the descriptions of torture that the human before them had expounded on. Marcus had to admit to himself that he was unsettled as well...and angry. To treat heroes to such...indignity, did they not realize that without them, the whole of the galaxy would be empty of advanced civilization? It was galling to say the least. The human continued, hoarsely, "My family, are they okay?"

The councilors nodded, one slim salarian saying gently, "You were taken at a spaceport, they searched for weeks. They have been notified and will be arriving in a few days."

Jacob sighed in deep relief, "I'd hoped they weren't taken, there were nightmares I had in that place that they were. They used that fear against me, told me that if I didn't cooperate, they'd kill my wife and son. I...told them as much as I knew about everything."

Susan was trembling with disgust and rage at the shame that flitted across Jacob's face, wanted to say kind words to erase that guilt. He wasn't responsible, whoever had taken him was responsible, but platitudes weren't going to help the man in the chair, sitting only because he was still weak and unable to stand. She clenched her fist as she silently vowed to avenge him on those bastards.

"The machines you were...hooked up to, what did they do? What was the purpose of it?"

Jacob shook his head and trembling, put his hands over his ears, "It talked to me, it was never quiet. If I slept, it would wake me and the liquid they were pumping me full of burned like acid in my veins. Make it stop, make it stop-"

The doctor, an aging human woman with goldish red hair, they had in here with him shot the councilors an angry look before soothing the man with soft words and a shot of some sedative if Marcus had to guess, judging from the way the human's shoulders went instantly slack, his face becoming vaguely confused. The doctor said, her voice accusingly reproachful, "I'm taking Jacob back to the hospital. Your questions can wait until he's well enough to answer them."

"We may not have the luxury of time, Dr. Michel." The councilor who spoke nearly stepped back from the sudden snarl on the doctor's face and held up slim blue hands, "However, we see that Mr. Taylor is in need of treatment. We'll set a security detail around the hospital and in his room in case they try to take him again."

As the doctor led the broken man out, Jacob called over his shoulder, "Find Miranda! She'll know."

Marcus rumbled a question as he watched that man's retreating back, "Is that really a threat? That they'll try to kidnap him again?"

The councilor who spoke turned her attention to him, "They've already attempted it once."

Marcus was shocked that they'd try to take Jacob from the Citadel, from the heart of Unified space. It spoke of a kind of desperate fanaticism that they'd risk capture or death to retrieve one man. He exchanged looks of foreboding with his team before taking a deep breath and addressing the council, "Council, you summoned us? Not just to hear that intel, I'm sure."

A turian council member queued up a vid on the vast wall that slowly rose from the floor, "We have a mission for your team. One of our Spectres mined this data from an active terminal in one of those 'temples'."

Marcus saw the timestamp flicker in the corner, just three days ago. The scene opened on a table where a human man was strapped down with wide rubber belts, as the camera zoomed in, he realized he knew this man. "Sector Chief Massani."

He was waved to silence as a figure, turian in shape hovered around the edges of the bright circle of light that beamed upon that table. His face was just out of frame as he ground out a question, voice mangled by some disability or other, "Name them, name the apostles."

"Fuck you." They must have the human hooked up to some electrical torture device, because his body arched off the table and Massani howled in agony, his face screwed up into a grimace of pain and he spat blood at that pacing turian, "When I get out of here, junior, you and Jessie are gonna have a word."

Marcus admired his pluck even as he was filled with anger and pity as another shock was administered to the human. That torturer repeated, "Name them."

It took three more rounds of torture before Massani finally cracked, his voice hoarser than usual as he ground out like he was speaking an oft repeated litany, "Vakarian, T'soni, Tali'zorah, Wrex, Alenko,..."

He took a deep shuddering breath before continuing, "...Krios, Goto, Samara, Massani, Jack, Grunt, Vega, Javik, Solus,..."

"Williams, Taylor, Lawson, Legion, EDI, Moreau." Finished the turian, barefaced and with disfiguring scars around the throat and lower face, visible now that he'd stepped into the circle of light and leaned over the prone human at his mercy and intoned, his ravaged voice eerily familiar, "Blessed are their names, for they will show us the path."

Massani lunged at him, arms straining against the straps, face set in a grimace of hate and rage. Silently, Marcus egged him on. The torturer stepped back, straightening his shoulders and again Marcus was struck by how damned familiar that broad back was as it faced the camera. Paulus shifted next to him and Marcus shot him a look, his brother seemed nervous over there, like he'd been struck by the same thought. Massani growled, "Let me out of these restraints and I'll show you the path all right, straight to hell."

"Zaeed, I think I can call you that now, now that we've become...familiar with each other." The torturer picked up a datapad from a nearby table and pressed at a few buttons.

"Only if I get to call you an arse lickin' gobshite." Massani paid for that insult with another shock, and his head lolled on the end of his neck limply. Susan could see that he was only barely hanging onto consciousness and she wished she could reach through the monitors to strangle his captors.

The scarred turian spoke, in a tone that was almost bored, "Zaeed, I'm told you like a good story, so I'm going to tell you a story. Then, because it's only fair, you get to tell me a story."

That datapad was lifted again and he read, "Transcendence: The Road of Consciousness. Chapter 1: There is in us, all of us, a place where the falling angel meets the rising beast. It is a place eternally at war, the conflict to give in-"

He was interrupted by the sound of Massani theatrically snoring, then the human laughed, a short bitter bark, "Now you really are trying to torture me."

Susan's heart was pumping fast, she knew that book, in her mind she heard her mother's soft voice speaking the words on the page to her as a child. Had read it herself in young adulthood, though a lot of its deeper meanings had escaped her then. The turian torturer spoke softly, "Which one of you wrote this book? Tell me, Massani, tell me who and all this will end."

She willed with all her heart for that human to be silent. Massani snorted a laugh, "Like it ended for Miranda? Fuck you, you twat."

He was cut off by the torturer pressing a button, and he screamed as he jolted there on that bed, limbs writhing as much as they could in their restraints. The turian didn't let up this time and shocked him right into unconsciousness. An unknown human woman, face still shrouded in shadow, stepped forward and the turian turned to her, "Wake him and we'll start again. Have we acquired any more apostles?"

"No."

"Pity." The turian grinned hideously, as the human on the table before him stirred, eyes fluttering, "No matter. The time of miracles is at hand."

The screen froze then, the recording at an end and Marcus turned to the assembled council, "So, a rescue mission."

"In essence." Said a turian councilor smoothly, his flicking mandibles the only indication that he was as deeply disturbed by the vid as they, "The team that tracked this down put a tracer on the signal. It leads to a moon in the Amada System in the Omega Nebula. Gather as much intel as you can while you're there, we have the feeling that something big is about to happen. Something that could threaten the security of this Unified Galactic Republic."

Marcus clenched his teeth and straightened his shoulders, saying, "We'll do what we can, councilors."

"Your success record is higher than any team we have out there, we know you know how to get results. Godspeed." A human councilor said, his craggy dark face stern, confidence in this Vagabond team apparent and Marcus saluted them, pride filling his heart. Of course they would succeed, they were unstoppable and when they found and killed this torturer, saved Massani and uncovered these cultists' secrets, they would return and reap their just reward.


	11. Chapter 11

_What is it with cults and underground lairs?_ mused Susan silently as Marcus led them through winding tunnels, lit by swinging overhead flourescent lights. Swinging because this was some sort of mining complex and the machinery was still running, somewhere nearby. There had been light resistance at the entrance, easily put down and Susan and Marcus had shared uneasy glances at how inadequately guarded this facility seemed. Thermals hadn't indicated that much when they'd done a long range scan from orbit, so either there was only a small number of the enemy guarding this place or it was a trap. Susan hoped it wasn't a trap. That would just ruin her day.

Marcus moved confidently, albeit cautiously through the low lit tunnels, thoughts growing darker with each step they took. He leaned toward Sanders, who was fiddling with his equipment, and opened his mouth to say in tones low and urgent, "And there's nothing on the scanners?"

"No, boss, some heat from the mining mechs, some residuals from areas ahead, might be enemy soldiers, might be rats or varren, but no large sources, nothing that would indicate a significant presence." Sanders shook his head.

"Could it be that they've bugged out? Known we were coming?" Paulus asked.

Marcus grimaced, "This mission had the highest clearance protocol. Virtually black bag. That it leaked would be very bad news, means we have a mole in the council. At least one."

Susan felt queasy at the thought. "We should relay a message to Kinz, just in case."

Marcus nodded and opened his comms, "Kinz."

And all he received back was static, crackling and ominous. He tossed a questioning look at Sanders, who pulled out a different sort of scanner to run diagnostics. Sanders cursed, "The rock is blocking our signal. Must be the same thing that kept us from getting accurate maps of the area down here."

"That's...inconvenient." Aleia said mildly, mandibles flicking idly as she looked behind them, "Should we go back?"

"No." Marcus refused to contemplate retreating, not when there was no sign that they were in immediate danger, not when they hadn't accomplished their mission, "We need to explore this whole compound. See if we can find some clues as to where they have Massani, or what the hell they're doing down here."

Susan watched the obstinate flicker in Marcus' eyes and felt just a little uneasy at how blithely the turian would lead them into the unknown depths with their unknown adversities. Paulus dropped into his brother's wake without hesitation and after a moment so did she, stifling her inner voice with its noisome doubts and watching their six so that if this place was indeed a trap they wouldn't be caught completely unaware.

* * *

Something was wrong, but he didn't know what. His team wasn't coming together as it should and it was difficult to pinpoint exactly why. Gone was the easy give and take, he found himself having to give out implicit orders on where to post and what to shoot and that had never been necessary, or maybe he had just been spoiled by having two team members for the last two weeks that could veritably read his mind. All he knew was that he didn't like it, it made doubts eat away at his guts. And anger, like they had suddenly lost all their trust in him. He didn't like the uncertainty in Susan's eyes, he didn't like how aloof and hesitant his bondmate was and he sure as hell didn't like the faraway look on Paulus' face.

There was no time for investigation now, as he ducked behind a wall to avoid fire from a small group of 'mercs' they'd found near the bottom of this facility. It would have to get sorted later, after. Maybe it was just nerves or unfamiliarity. All he knew, as he sighted down his barrel to find a target, was that it was irritating, it ground against his nerves like shards of glass.

The last enemy dropped and Susan straightened, checking her thermals for more red dots and sighed when she found none. Aleia and Ralph had their heads together over by the wall and as she approached, they shot unreadable glances at her and Ralph closed his omnitool hastily. Susan gestured at his instrumentation, "Any news topside?"

The two before her exchanged a look and Ralph said, his tone even and utterly dispassionate, "No, not a thing. Still can't get a hold of Kinz and Ushal."

Puzzled by their reticence, Susan turned away in confusion. She knew she was new to the team and that it would take time to gain their trust, but she'd already shown herself capable. This...coldness toward her was something that she'd never encountered in other units and it hurt a bit. She stifled the pang with a harsh mental reprimand, _They don't know you. It'll take time is all. You'll see._

Why that did nothing to comfort her was another mystery and she felt her brows pull together and a slight frown yank at her lips. Her attention turned outward to see Paulus staring at her from where he was leaning against a wall and she walked toward him, feeling a warmth spread through her at the sight of his mandibles spreading in a gentle smile. Marcus had joined the other two and they were discussing which path to take in this place of multiple exits.

She leaned against the wall in imitation of Paulus' nonchalant stance and looked up into his face, "Hey."

"Hey yourself." He rumbled in amusement, leaning his face down toward hers until they were only a few inches apart.

She felt her cheeks warm as she locked gazes with him. She saw his stormy eyes cloud with some emotion she couldn't define as he stared intently at her and cleared her throat as the tension hiked and she felt her pulse quicken, "What are you thinking about?"

"You." Her gut flipped at the naked want in his voice and her mouth dried as he loomed even closer, filling her nose with his warm sweet scent, so inviting. Paulus chuckled at her obvious shy embarrassment and leaned away again, looking down at her, "Thinking about what I'd like to do later."

She stifled a giggle, feeling a warm rush of blood to her face and...other places, "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

He shrugged as he pinned her with his gaze again, letting her know exactly what he was thinking about and she felt a trembling in her knees and shifted nervously to relieve it. Paulus sighed and said, "I was thinking we could catch a vid or get some dinner somewhere."

"Or drinks, maybe?" She teased and was pleased to hear him hum speculatively, "Because we both know how that turned out."

"I'm not saying a repeat wouldn't be nice, but.." Paulus took her hand in his and she swallowed at the earnest expression that flitted over his face, "I think, I just...don't want this to just be about blowing off steam, Susan. I think I want more. That is if you want more."

Susan lifted her brows in surprise and watched him squirm as he waited for her reply. It was so at odds with what she'd seen of his nature to be this unsure. He'd always exuded confidence. That he was so compromised now was...endearing and it made her heart flutter in her chest. She ducked her head shyly as she smiled up at him, "We can...try, Paulus."

He let out a breath in relief and his grey eyes danced merrily down at her as she stood on tip toe to kiss his nose ridge and he leaned down to press his forehead against hers, rumbling happily. A cough from the side drew their attention to Marcus, who looked on with a slightly annoyed expression on his face. Susan felt a rush of shame for a moment as she remembered where they were and what they were doing. Paulus also shifted in discomfiture. Marcus sighed, "Let's get a move on, shall we?"

They dropped in behind him as he moved to one of the tunnels, and he glanced back to his brother, signaling subtly that he should step closer. When Paulus was abreast of him, Marcus leaned toward him, hissing in an angry whisper, "What the hell is up with you, Paulus?"

Paulus ducked his head and his eyes shifted around guiltily, "I'm sorry."

Marcus sighed in exasperation and ran a hand over his fringe, "I'm seriously reconsidering having Susan on my team if it means you'll be walking around with your head up your ass. Focus!"

Paulus almost stopped in his tracks in shock and Marcus jerked his head angrily that he should keep up. Paulus whispered, as he quickened his stride, "You wouldn't really do that, would you, Marcus? Kick her off the squad?"

"If it came down to a choice of bringing you or bringing her, I'll pick you any day of the week." Marcus took a deep breath, glancing back to the rest of the squad, making sure they were out of earshot. He saw Susan at the back, watching their rear and felt a flash of anger at her for...complicating things. Aleia caught his eye and shook her head in disapproval as she flicked her gaze to his brother's back. He was glad he wasn't the only one who saw how this breach of battlefield conduct could be disastrous and turned back to Paulus, who was almost hanging his head in shame, "We'll see, but I need you to focus. Get your head on straight, Paulus."

Paulus grimaced and straightened, looking over at Marcus, "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

"Good." He looked ahead and only saw more tunnel, gently spiraling down into the earth of this backwater moon. Uneasiness settled over him at how far into the ground they'd actually descended, it felt like miles though it probably wasn't near that far. What was by far the more unsettling was the sense that the surface was out of reach, that they'd never come out of this place. He dismissed that irrational fear and pressed on, muttering, "This place gives me the creeps."

"Me, too. There's something wrong here. Do you think it's a trap?"

"If it is, we'll know soon. But we're not leaving until we know for sure that Massani isn't here, that there isn't anything to be gained from this little excursion." Paulus made a noise that was part uncertainty, part frustration and Marcus smiled grimly at his brother who knew exactly what he was feeling, "We got this, we'll take on whatever they throw at us."

Finally, he saw a flicker of faith in his brother's eyes as they gazed at him sidelong and Marcus felt it warm him, give him a much needed boost to his wavering confidence. A noise ahead drew his attention and he signaled for everyone to halt and find cover. Alarm rushed through him as the thermals on his visor cut out and he whispered in a barely audible whisper, "We just lost thermals. Be ready."

They smelled them before they saw them, before the tunnel before them was filled with snarling howling shapes with glowing eyes pounding toward them on four legs and Paulus called out, "Varren!"

As his squad mowed down the horde of fleshy beasts, eventually resorting to hand to hand to stave off the animals, Marcus felt himself growing angrier and angrier. He clawed his way out of the pile of varren corpses, bloodied and furious. Someone was just playing with them now and he ached to teach them not to fuck with his team, not to fuck with _him._

His attention was drawn to the flickering lights overhead and he called out, "Switch to nightvision! They're cutting the lights."

Susan grimaced as she pulled on her EVA helmet, she hated full face masks, they made her feel claustrophobic, but it was better than being blind and she queued her hard suit to run nightvision and it flickered on to reveal the tunnel behind them wasn't empty either. "Cerberus! On our six!"

And they opened fire, forcing Marcus and his squad to venture farther into the tunnel to find cover, of which there was precious little. The only thing they could do was run around the curve of the walls, staying just out of line of sight and pick off anyone who ventured into their sights, but the sheer numbers of troops hounding them and the steady flow of varren in front made sure that they were always the ones retreating, or advancing as the case may be. Down and down they went, no matter how hard they pushed against the forces shepherding them to whatever fate this trap had in store for them.

Marcus was starting to feel the first touches of despair as he counted his swiftly depleting heatsinks and furiously pushed that feeling back. He barked, "We need some breathing room. Sanders, drop a turret. Susan, give us a singularity. We're forging ahead."

Susan let her hands glide through the mimetic gestures and fled after the others as they ran for their lives shooting the flagging numbers of varren as they went with precise bursts to conserve their ammo. Susan paused for a moment, noting out of the corner of her eye that Sanders was deploying a turret and pecking at his omnitool, his face a lot calmer than she was sure hers was and wondered at it. She heard cries behind her as the enemy encountered her singularity, but what she did_ not_ hear and it filled her with a nameless dread was the sound of that turret firing on their pursuers. Before she could say anything, they burst into a large chamber, vaguely circular with three doors set into the furthest wall. Marcus, his face a study in cold fury, called out, "By the damn spirits, is there no end to this place? Sanders, which way?"

The human shook his head and ran a hand through his cropped hair, eyes darting about nervously, "Maybe we should split up."

"No, we're not doing that. There could be a damn army behind any of these doors for all we know." Marcus growled.

Aleia put her hand on his arm, her voice a conciliatory murmur, "We should find the way out-"

"No! Not without the intel, or Massani. We're not leaving empty handed." Marcus' hands chopped viciously through the air and Susan began to wonder for the first time if he was still capable of command, it seemed his control was slipping and she worried at the idea of it. Susan watched Aleia as the turian female turned her face away, hiding her expression with one graceful hand. Marcus had stalked to a door and was listening at it intently.

Susan put another singularity in the tunnel behind them, hearing their booted feet approach, "They're coming."

"Set charges, we're going through this one." Marcus yanked the door open and peered down the seemingly empty hallway lined with plexiglass windows and doors and nearly retched at the wave of the stink of piss and shit and animal musk that greeted them. It assaulted his nares almost overwhelmingly.

Paulus choked out as the rest of the team gagged, "Guess this is where the varren came from."

Marcus shook his head angrily and gestured for them to follow as he lead them into what was obviously some kind of research station. Each room was filled with dozens of cages, he turned to his brother, "Blow the tunnel."

Sanders choked, sputtering, "How the hell are we going to get out?"

Susan nodded, voice rising in agreement even as Paulus pulled a detonator out of one of his many armor compartments, "There's got to be more than one exit."

Distant cries and a rumble through her feet indicated that the tunnel was collapsed, maybe they'd get a little space to sort things out now. A glance she shared with Marcus told her that he was thinking the same thing and she felt a flash of relief that maybe he'd find his equilibrium again before his loss of sense cost them the mission and their lives.

"Marcus, come look at this." Paulus was in one of the labs, prodding an odd harness of some sort, turning its many buckles and tubes over in his hand. Marcus suppressed the irritation he was feeling toward his brother, they had time to investigate now, it was after all what they'd come here to do, even if it was some stupid and pointless experiments on varren.

There were rows of tables, all with identical harnesses and tubing leading from the machines next to them. From the configuration of the ligatures, he could tell that they indeed were made for varren, or some other type of fourlegged beast, though varren was a safe bet considering. He reached out and flicked on one of the machines and nearly leaped back as a whitish liquid poured out of the tubes with a gurgling hiss. By the smell, it was the same substance that the cultists had been injecting Taylor with. It glowed white hot to his night vision and experimentally, he took off his helmet and saw that it also glowed flourescently in the dark, almost pulsing like a living thing. He shuddered, "Aleia, get a sample of this...stuff."

"They were injecting the varren with this stuff like they did Jacob?" Susan asked, she hadn't noticed in that temple before since she'd been using her biotics heavily, but the liquid was rank with the ozone smell of eezo or maybe this...batch was stronger somehow, because she could clearly feel it pull at the nodules in her flesh. She turned to their leader, who was still and silent, contemplating, "It's some kind of eezo, can't be pure though or it would have killed those poor animals outright. Some kind of infusion..."

Marcus turned to his bondmate, who stood off to one side with an unreadable expression on her visored face and Susan felt a wave of annoyance that he didn't take her word alone for it. She watched Aleia's eyes flicker from Marcus to Susan and the female turian said calmly, "She's right. I can feel it pulling at me. I have the sample, we should move on."

Marcus turned on his heel and led them further into darkness, Paulus on his heels and when Susan threw a grateful look at Aleia, she found the female looking after the two men with a strange smile on her face, the parts of it she could see anyway and a shudder rolled through her, at what she didn't know.


	12. Chapter 12

They were being stalked, he knew it deep in his keelbone and whoever it was was skilled enough to stay out of sight, leave no trace of their passage down here in the dark. They'd found a room, a huge cavern filled with servers, glowing lines full of that liquid strung between them, not enough light to see by so they'd kept their helmets on, nightvision running and still not a single glimpse of their mysterious pursuers, just that awful feeling of being watched. It was oppressive and he felt his hackles want to raise as his nerves were slowly being frayed to nothing. He felt panic, though he was loathe to use that word, bubbling around the edges of his psyche.

Doubt was devouring him as he thought of how tenuous his control was becoming, that a little jaunt in the dark could unbalance him so. He saw the same doubt on Susan's face any time he ventured a peek at it. He was sure it was doubt in him, doubt in his ability and it stung, more than he'd care to admit. He thought she'd trusted him, thought she would have made a fine addition to his team, well, he was man enough to admit he was wrong. When they got out of here, he'd make sure she got back to Aralakh Company safely and then they could go back to being the best at what they do. Even as he thought these things, he felt a touch of shame ghost up his spine and turned a bit sharply when a familiar hand was placed on his arm. Aleia looked back at him with sympathy and darted a look to their little blue friend, making sure she was out of earshot, "Marcus, this asari..."

"Susan?" He hesitated before coaxing, "What's the matter, beloved?"

Aleia leaned in close, her eyes mostly hidden behind that visor, but he heard the unsure quaver in her subharmonics as she whispered, "How do we know she can be trusted?"

Marcus reared back in astonishment and pulled her further away from the group, further away from his brother, "Why? Did you see something?"

"No." He heard the truth of it in her voice and relaxed marginally, only to tense back up when Aleia continued, "What you said about the council earlier, about there being a mole?"

"Yeah." He ground his teeth as he waited for her to say whatever it was she going to say, hoping it wasn't the same as the dark little fluttering thoughts that had already picked at him with feather light touches, plucking his nerves.

"What if it's a lot simpler than that? What if _someone_ who happened to be at that meeting tipped them off on the way here..." Aleia drew his eye with a significant glance to their companion, who was looking at her omnitool, pecking away at the keys. Marcus felt suspicion blossom in his chest, it did seem awfully neat and too coincidental that she'd joined them just as these...troubles started up. What if she'd masterminded the whole thing? Or worked for whoever did? An asari in Aralakh Company? Known for being bruisers and traditionally used as a blunt bludgeoning instrument in the field, it suddenly felt all too unlikely to him and he stalked toward her as she frowned into the orange light of her omnitool.

He rose up behind her and said, in a cold low voice, "What are you doing?"

Did she seem a tad guilty as she started and turned to face him? His mandibles ached where he had them clenched to his face, wishing he could see her face, search those pale green eyes for culpability and betrayal. His hands were fists at his sides as he waited.

She rubbed her neck as she smiled up into his face, forgetting for a moment that she was wearing a helmet that hid it. Her smile faltered as she took in his tense stance, wishing she could see his face, know what he was thinking, "It's, uh, nothing. Just a letter to my mother in case we don't make it out of here."

Paulus popped up and slung an arm over her shoulders, saying in a tone of confident reassurance, muffled by his own helmet, "Don't worry, Susie. We'll get out of here. Marcus will get us out."

Susan eyed the rigidly still form of Paulus' brother with trepidation, something was wrong, very wrong. He was...hostile towards her, waves of it pushing at her across the narrow gap between them and her eye was drawn to the form of Aleia, in the background of this little exchange. What did that self satisfied light in her face mean exactly? What did that female say to Marcus to make him act this way toward her? She closed her eyes for a moment and listened, really listened. Sometimes when her heart was in doubt, this helped, in some indescribable, unknowable way.

The thread of music was hard to find at the best of times and it evaded her grasp now, frustrating her maddeningly. The snippets she did hear gave her the overall impression that something was _skewing_ Marcus' perception, souring his perspective and she suddenly knew in her core that it had to be Aleia. Aleia had done...something, whether knowingly or not was still unclear. She felt a hitherto unknown feeling well up in her, not just fear. Fear and something else, something like anguish. The depth of it shocked her.

Marcus shifted in the silence and took a step toward the asari threateningly, making his brother react with surprise, voice still that low cold monotone, his subharmonics eerily flat, "What did you tell them?"

Susan was startled as well, reading furious anger in his pose, "What did I tell who?"

Marcus turned his head toward the human engineer, who'd fallen in beside Aleia, "Take her omnitool. I want to know how much she's told them."

"Marcus! What the hell-" Paulus made to step between them, only to have Susan stop him with an outstretched hand.

"He thinks I betrayed you." Susan said softly, and too calmly, even to herself, because her heart was beating madly in her chest with all the crushing feelings of betrayal of her own. Marcus really believed her capable of it, after all they'd been through. Now she thought of it, she quailed inwardly at the realization that the three of them really hadn't known each other for very long, it just _seemed_ like a lifetime. It had to be a misunderstanding, they were her krannt. She felt that trust, the trust she thought they'd all shared break and her voice left her, her mind set adrift in that tide of disillusionment. She let Sanders take her OT from her without a fight.

"Restrain her, take her weapons." Marcus ground out past the ball of rage roiling around in his guts. She wasn't even denying it, proof positive to his mind. Sanders placed cuffs over her wrists, in front so she could still keep up with them. As docilely as she was acting, he didn't think she was going to run, not down here in this labyrinth.

Marcus slowly raised the barrel of his rifle up to point it at her with a vague thought that it might be better to shoot her now rather than risk further harm from this little viper in their midst and Paulus, finally free of his stunned torpor, shoved it to the side with a snarl, "I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you, Marcus, but Susan didn't betray any-"

Suddenly there was light, blinding all encompassing light, agony lanced through his eyeballs and bounced around his skull. He yelled, heard it echoed by the others and ripped his helmet off. The brightness was everywhere, and he willed the spots to clear from his vision as he peered around dazedly. He swung his rifle around, trying to find a target, this area was so exposed, any minute he expected to feel a bullet pierce his skull and it made him grimace in terror and he dropped behind one of the servers, signaling the others to drop as well, leaving the still form of Susan to stand alone at this intersection of pathways.

He realized she was blinded, and saw Paulus tackle her just as the sharp report of rifle fire filled the air, right through the space she was just standing in and that sounded a note of disbelief in him. And a disturbing thought that he refused to acknowledge right now, one that whispered traitorously in his heart of why they would shoot one of their own. All thoughts fled but those of battle as he was finally able to discern the location of their adversaries. Shapes flitted between servers out there and even though he scoped in to see them better, they remained unidentified. With a snarl of rage, he picked off the slower ones, but they were cunning, whoever they were and stayed out of sight, pressing only when they had the advantage. Marcus' team was exposed as they ran to find a more defensible position and he took several vicious hits to his shields as they scrambled.

Marcus despaired ever finding such a thing in this grid of pathways, too open too many blindspots that a clever enemy would take advantage of. This room narrowed at the end, the end that was emanating all that light and he led them, hoping that it would blind the many scopes he imagined were sighted on his back. As he dodged a grenade, scooping it up and tossing it back out there, he felt recognition pour icily into his bones. Recognition of the tactics they were employing and it sent a horrified chill down his back. They were fighting another team of Vagabonds, there were more traitors out there and his mouth filled with bile at the thought. He cringed, shock making his hands shake.

Finally, one of them wandered into his scope, and his eyes wanted to shut compulsively at the sight of the double chevron on that turian's chestplate, confirmation of his worst fear. He shouted, hoarsely, trying to deny it, "No!"

"What is it?" Paulus reloaded with a grimace, Susan sitting on the ground behind him, wrists still secure, helmet gone and tears streaking her empty face.

"They're Vagabonds." Came the horrified near whisper from his own throat, his voice nearly unrecognizable to himself. He was filled with an incandescent fury then, that his uncle had toiled for nothing, built this only to have it perverted after his death and swore to kill all of them, all the traitors and his gaze once again swung to that asari who sat so silently, sure she was mocking him with her wide green eyes and growled deep in his chest, pulling out his pistol, but his brother saw what he'd been about to do and grabbed his wrist.

"Marcus, you put that away before I do something we'll both regret." Came the low, menacing voice of his brother. Marcus looked into earnest grey eyes in a face so like his own and relented, for now. He shot a hate filled glare at Susan, whose eyes flickered with some emotion he couldn't define.

Aleia shouted from behind, "I found another door behind this machine!"

He shot a short burst of fire out there to keep their enemy occupied and sprinted to where she was at. He had to swing wide around a towering construction that shone with light so fiercely that it was hard to make out its outline at all. He wondered briefly at the purpose of it, saw how the cables led from the servers to this spot and wound up and through the ceiling in the general direction they were headed and it didn't comfort him, not one iota. Especially not its droning, drumming noise that seemed to be getting louder. This place had already shown him too many surprises and he no longer hoped to find Massani down here. Surely they'd removed him once Susan had sent her treacherous message.

Just the thought of it made his blood freeze in rage and Aleia patted his arm, her face the very picture of sympathy. He gave her a grateful look and opened the door, the corridor beyond was brightly lit and showed no enemies, he turned and shouted to his team, "Fall back!"

They scooted hastily after him, Paulus tugging Susan along by her wrists. Marcus snarled quietly, wishing he'd just leave her and once again turned to Sanders, "Rig that door, we need time."

Slowly, Susan came to herself as she watched the human work, she'd gone somewhere else for a bit in her head, it seemed safer than staying in this place with these people she'd thought were her friends, especially after she'd seen the one lift his weapon to shoot her, not once but twice. But now she was back, as shaky an assertion as that was and the wheels were turning, oh yes they were. Her eyes caught that Sanders was rigging the explosive but not arming it and she tried to bring herself to yell a warning but her voice didn't cooperate. Saw the glances between Aleia and the human, laden with meaning as they worked to undermine Marcus and his squad and knew that they were all going to die in this place, far from the surface. Despair choked her, drawing a small sound from her throat.

Aleia met her gaze with a secretive smile, like they shared a joke between them and inwardly she screamed at herself for being such a coward that she couldn't even fight back. The female turian nodded towards Paulus and tapped her sidearm in warning, the message clear that if she were to try to warn the brothers, there would be dire consequences and her throat closed up even more in fear that Paulus was going to die because of her, because she was such a coward. She pleaded with Aleia silently, but it only made that smile wider, even more knowing.

Susan considered lunging at the bitch, but weaponless and unable to perform the simplest mimetic, she'd surely be shot down before she even closed the distance, probably by Marcus, whose hate filled glares stung the most. And there'd be no one left who could stop this somehow. Why hadn't she said anything to defend herself before? She could read it in his eyes, that she was to blame, not the one he loved, how could Aleia be to blame? How to fix this? Was there nothing she could do? The thoughts pounded in her head viciously, shame coursing hotly through her body.

Paulus led her gently after the others, under Marcus' cold and vigilant stare and she bit her lip in thought. The corridor was long and straight and led to an even brighter area ahead, which pulsed like a heartbeat. She felt trepidation as did Marcus if his slight hesitation was any clue.

A whispering pulled at his ear, low and sussurating along with a humming voice and a shape moved in front of that light for just a moment, making him warily crouch as they edged forward. He started as a mechanical voice sounded overhead, "Stage one, complete, doctor. Power up to one hundred percent."

A laugh, low and lilting made them pause, "Start stage two."

The light ahead dimmed enough for them to see a salarian in white with dark pants bobbing his head like he was keeping time as he hummed and he stopped to look up at the dais before him with its light and tubes and now that they'd crept closer, Marcus could see a figure on that...altar. A human woman, kneeling, legs spread for balance, arms outstretched by the armature she was trapped in. She was clad in a skintight harness with tubes running in and out of her skin, that bright liquid pumping through her in surges. Her hair, a dark fall of midnight, fell around her face, which was frozen in a rictus of agony. The whispers were coming from her, a quiet string of nonsensical data, "Sector 3 acquired, Sectors 5-8 acquired, Hildebrandt, Kosova, Abraxus, Potemic, Janus, Regulia, Shadestalker, Ship of Size and Brevity, Ulysses-"

_The Abraxus_? What the hell did a turian cruiser have to do with all this madness? He watched the salarian reach up and lay one long fingered hand on that woman's face lovingly and she flinched away from it, her eyes the only thing animate in the whole of her face and Marcus could see that she was aware, if not in control and it sickened him as he listened to the salarian unctuously cajole, "You are so beautiful, my dear. But you knew that already, didn't you? The geneticist in me appreciates the careful crafting that went into creating you. And would rejoice in taking you apart to find that...other thing. But alas, it was not meant to be. Our time is nearly at an end. Begin attunement."

The thrumming got louder and Marcus trained his weapon at that slender back and spoke loudly, "Stay where you are. Keep your hands where I can see them."

"No no no, in the middle of something here. You can come back later if you'd like me to entertain." Came the mild, unsurprised reply. Was the salarian mad? Maybe he wasn't the only one, that whispering from the woman was getting on his already stretched to near breaking nerves, plucking at the frayed edges of his discipline. He resisted the sudden overwhelming urge to shoot them both and be done with it.

"Are you deaf? Or just stupid. Stop whatever the hell it is you're doing and put your hands up." Marcus was only a few feet away now, his rifle unswervingly pointed at the figure before him. "I'm not going to say it again."

With a sigh, the salarian lifted his hands and turned to face them, making Marcus tense up to prepare for an attack, a bumrush, whatever. He'd never felt so close to breaking and the need to get out of here with his team intact was tearing at him ruthlessly. The salarian's demeanor was placid, calm, his face open, almost welcoming. At odds with this were his eyes, they _burned, _and with dawning horror, Marcus realized that he was looking at someone who'd left sanity behind long long ago.

"It would be very unwise to discharge a firearm in this room." The salarian gestured upwards and it drew all their eyes up and up. An almost perfectly circular hole had been drilled through the moon's crust. They must have descended into the moon so very far for the hole to seem to stretch on forever, terminating at the end with what his heart kept telling him was sky and he trembled at the need to stand under it, to taste fresh air again. The hole was lined with tank after tank of that glowing liquid, an ocean of the stuff, he could see it roiling around like a living thing. His imagination painted a picture of what a stray bullet would do, what it would be like to drown in that stuff as it filled this small chamber. The salarian hummed in approval at his understanding, turning from them to peck at the keyboard, "You should put down your weapons. When they come for you, you shouldn't fight."

_Like hell, _he thought, though his inward quaking betrayed his resolve. He snarled and gestured for his team to watch the corridor. The salarian was unarmed and was soon humming to himself as he worked and Marcus shoved him away from the terminal, not sure himself why he hadn't done so before, he thrust his rifle into that flat face and said in dark tones of barely suppressed rage, "Who are you?"

A smile, wide and too manic for his taste plastered itself across the salarian's visage, "I'm Maelon Heplorn, pleased to meet you."

Why did that name sound familiar? Marcus heard a snort from his brother along with a tense wave to hurry it up. He gestured with an abrupt motion to the woman, the machine, the tubes, "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, difficult to answer and I don't think you'll have the time." He was right, there were voices beyond that door. Any minute now they'd trigger the explosive and flood this room. Maelon watched him almost sympathetically, "There's no other way out of this room, by the way, in case you were wondering."

"Guess that means you'll have to be our hostage." Marcus pulled his pistol out in one smooth motion and yanked the unresisting body of the mad salarian into a choke hold.

Susan felt inexplicably drawn to the tortured woman on the dais, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the many needles and tubes that desecrated her flesh with horror. Her hands itched to get her down from there, to free her. She caught that woman's gaze from across the room and shook at the plea in them, the terror and pain that emanated from her wracked body as her mouth continued to pour forth seemingly random pieces of data. Paulus stood by her and she almost flinched away from him, darting a look toward Aleia, who watched with a warning glare. Seemingly puzzled by her expression, which she was trying so hard to control, Paulus looked where she was glancing and saw the now placid face of his brother's betrothed and his browridges drew down, Susan tried to convey a warning with her eyes, out of Aleia's line of sight and felt a rush of fear as Paulus' mouth opened to ask the question, the question she couldn't answer without putting them in danger. Subtly, she shook her head, just the tiniest movement, nostrils flaring in panic and Paulus closed his mouth with an audible click.

The sharp smell of ozone drew her attention up to those tanks of fluid and she saw lightning dance between them, in waves going up and up toward the sky.

Paulus traced the line of her gaze and said, in a voice nearly as strained and tense as his brother's, "Marcus, look."

Marcus did look and shook the salarian in his arms, "Shut it down, Maelon. Shut it all down."

Maelon laughed and turned his head slightly to look at him, smugly condescending, "Impossible. We are already past the point of no return. We are in the event horizon."

Marcus turned and pointed his gun at the woman, "And if I kill her? Will that stop it?"

"Marcus! You can't-" Paulus said and drifted off as Marcus swung his regard around to pin him with all the fury he was feeling welling up in his being. Marcus started at the shock and fear he saw in his brother's face then and shook himself, taking deep breaths though they did nothing to calm his agitation.

Just then the door burst open, sans the expected explosion and he saw a tide of people marching toward him, all with the double chevron at their breast. Far more than just one insertion squad. Using Maelon as a living shield, he advanced, rifle already up and blazing. He felt bullets enter the body against his and rather ruthlessly kept it from falling so it could continue to shelter him from the oncoming hordes. They seemed to have no qualms about firing into this room, maybe the salarian had lied about the fragility of the containers. The humming was getting louder, almost bludgeoning him with its deep reverberation. The mechanical voice of the machine chimed, "Ten minutes and counting."

A bullet went through his shoulder and he snarled in pain, and something in his brain shut down then, refused to see the familiar uniforms on the soldiers attacking them and just killed, and killed with abandon, scything them down dispassionately. They were gaining ground, slowly working toward the end of this corridor and he felt a small spark of hope that they'd make it out. He and Aleia, Sanders and his brother, who was still towing that asari bitch around by her wrists, they soon found themselves clambering over the corpses to the door that led back out into the labyrinth of servers. Hope turned to bleak despair as he saw a heavily armored figure with a tank on its back step around the machine, a fire flickering deceptively small at the end of the long barrel of his weapon. There would be no escape from the flamethrower in this narrow corridor.

"Wait!" Sanders yelled just as the gouts of flame rolled towards them and a small body barreled into him from behind, pushing him out into the room just as a massive explosion rocked the foundation of the complex. He felt fire lick his face almost tenderly before the pain of it penetrated and he screamed, but it sounded muffled, distant. Dimly, Marcus remembered the explosive that was rigged to the door, and grinned ruefully at its ill timing. He fought the insane urge to laugh as he tumbled helplessly, fetching up against a wall. Paulus staggered around in his field of vision drunkenly, toward the door they'd just been so rudely expelled from. Beyond the charred frame, he saw the still form of Susan, laying facedown, armor blackened, still smoking and he couldn't get himself to comprehend just what had happened.

A loud rumbling made his guts drop in trepidation and finally he stood, swaying as he tried to coordinate his movements. An ungainly half lope got him close enough to Paulus to pull him back just as the first rocks began to fall, "We have to get out of here!"

"Susan!" Paulus yelled, trying to pull away from him. Their view of her prone shape was soon obscured by falling debris.

"She's dead, Paulus." Marcus shuddered as the realization swept through him, a spike of guilt filled agony as his mind finally worked out that hers had been the body that shoved them out of the explosion's path and he bit back a keen. His eyes darted around for Aleia, heart thumping painfully as he searched, hoping that she'd been clear of the blast and he panicked as he saw not one sign of her and he called, voice shaky and full of fear, "Aleia!"

Paulus wrenched away from him, turning sharply, shoving Marcus away from him, and his voice rolled out of him in an angry shout, "You! You left her behind! And you left that woman behind!"

"Paulus, I-" The rest of his words were cut off as he felt himself get lifted in the air, his brother equally caught in the same, twisting slowly, helplessly in the biotic lift. The waves of mass effect fields were agony on the skin of his burnt face, the hide feeling too tight and he feared it was going to split under the strain of his grimace. With a loud sound that wasn't quite a boom, he felt his body suddenly go sideways and he was slammed into a wall, headfirst. As his awareness dimmed, he strained to open his eyes and after what seemed like years of effort, they finally cracked open just a hair, just enough to see blue eyes looking at him with distant and cold pity. Blackness claimed his vision then and his reason, and he tumbled into unconsciousness, trying to hold onto the fast unraveling illusion of all that he'd thought was true and real.


	13. Chapter 13

"Fuck." It took her a minute to realize that the voice was hers, that air still moved within her lungs and that air had been pushed through her vocal cords to make her lips shape that one simple expletive that summed up everything she was feeling just then, succinctly. Ironic, now that she was probably dying, her voice had decided to come back, not earlier when it could have actually helped.

The cool stone beneath her cheek was actually kind of pleasant, she was loathe to move and find out just how hurt she actually was. One of her legs felt leaden and the heavy pressure on it told her that it was more than likely trapped under something. An experimental tug revealed that whatever it was, it was soft and not unyielding. Like a...body. That got her moving, dark thoughts of _What if it's_ _Paulus_? forcing her to crane her neck back and peer in the near darkness and she sobbed in near relief when she saw that it wasn't her lover, but that crazy salarian draped across her lower half, his bloody still smiling face turned toward hers.

Nausea gripped her as she shoved the corpse away roughly, that flat face leered at her in the dark and she slowly turned her face from it, shaking in reaction. She forced herself to take stock, legs, arms, torso, head. Check. Armor, functional, barely. Weapon, gone. Omnitool, definitely gone. Squad, she looked around fearfully, letting out the breath she'd been unconsciously holding when she saw that there were no more corpses here to haunt her, at least none with familiar faces anyway. Then she remembered that they weren't her squad any more and she bit back a whimper, they were gone, they'd left her here. She hoped Paulus made it out at least.

Susan winced as twisting caused a bolt of pain to lance through her midsection, so she hadn't escaped unscathed. Gingerly, she felt around the wound in her abdomen, fingers encountering a twisted piece of metal lodged in the tissue. She debated with herself briefly on whether removing it would cause more trauma and finally gritted her teeth and pulled it out with one swift yank. She bit on her forearm to stifle the scream that threatened to well up and escape the confines of her throat. When the agony finally dulled to a deep seated ache, she felt around the hole in her stomach again with shaky fingers. There was no tide of gushing blood, which was reassuring, meant that no major arteries had been punctured, that she hadn't woken up just to bleed out.

It was dark now, in this place that had held so much light before. Not completely, to her relief, just light enough to see her surroundings and she stood with weak and shaky knees, using a wall to support her. A fresh stab of pain in her guts told her that she should maybe try to find some medigel and she set herself to the slow task of searching bodies for things she'd need. Tools, weapons, heatsinks and finally, when she'd all but given up hope, she found one pouch of medigel and plugged it into her armor gratefully, it wouldn't heal her completely but it would at least take some of the pain away, take the edge off so she could think straight.

She left the omnitools she found alone, knowing she didn't have the tech ability to decode an omnitool's biometric lock. Slowly, because she was still covered in bruises and cuts and her joints were screaming at her, she wandered back toward the light, much, much dimmer now. Susan wondered briefly how long she'd been out, if whatever thing they'd been doing here had already happened. She jumped with a pained hiss as a cold and timbreless voice boomed over the intercoms, "Attunement complete, final countdown commencing. Three minutes and counting."

The circular chamber was more or less intact, its prisoner still where they'd left her, restrained on that slab of circuitry and steel, still whispering nonsense. With a groan, she lifted herself up onto the platform, and started unhooking the woman's body, she had to leave a lot of the wires in place for fear of killing her with an errant yank. In many ways, it was much like what they'd done to Jacob, only much more extensive, the couplings came loose with a twist and when the last one was free, the woman slid down into her arms with a sigh, soft and breathless, her face finally relaxing from its fearful grimace of pain, silent now.

Susan held her close, not sure why her heart was breaking for this woman, only that tears flowed down her face to land like a gentle rain on that tortured brow. She swept the dark hair back away from sweaty cheeks and breathed, not sure if she wanted an answer or not, "Are you alive?"

The body in her arms was too still, a dead weight, but it breathed, barely. She felt at the neck and found a pulse, weak and uncertain. The eyelids flickered and rose, fraction by fraction until she saw the deep blue eyes slowly focus on her face. An unknowable expression flitted over her countenance and Susan waited tensely for her to speak, just knowing she was about to. A dry tongue came out to wet equally dry lips and she whispered, "You're...Susan, aren't you?"

She nodded and cradled that flushed cheek in her palm, feeling the life in the woman ebbing slowly away, being sucked away somehow. The woman's accent pulled at her memory and she saw a flash of white and black, high heels and a haughty laugh, standing with her mother as the two women spoke of deeds long past, old sins.

_'I never thanked you for bringing her back.' Liara said, cheeks dimpling as she smiled sadly. The other woman merely shook her head and waved it away._

_'I never thanked you for letting me. I didn't know at the time how much knowing her was going to change me.' Black hair was tossed over one shoulder as the human settled her child higher on her hip. Susan looked up into green eyes in a rosy face topped with black ringlets and smiled, waving as the pudgy human child sucked her thumb. The tall woman with black hair said in a fierce, loving whisper, "Thank you."_

_The two women embraced awkwardly and Liara said, "Mir-"_

_"_-anda. You're Miranda Lawson." Another of Shepard's companions, caught by these damned cultists. Tortured and defiled. Something in her heart awoke then and stirred, flashes of rage mingling with her sadness and she shook at its magnitude. She would have lost herself in it if a weak voice hadn't broken her reverie, if a soft hand hadn't found its way to her cheek.

"It's my fault. All of it. I couldn't leave well enough alone." A soft whimper fell from those chapped lips and Susan looked deeply into eyes that looked even more deeply back, eyes that reflected shame and horror back at her, "I see you. I'm so sorry."

Susan didn't comprehend the wave of pure compassion and understanding that flowed over her, through her like a hot wind. Absently she heard the countdown reach zero and watched, fascinated as Miranda's mouth opened wide and a sound came out of it, just out of conscious recognition. Heard it pick up resonance as it ascended up through the shaft. She clapped her hands over her ears as it became unbearable, the terrifying sound and hunched over the dying woman's body. It felt like her...everything was vibrating, down to the basest molecule and was sure she would be torn apart. The sensation of moving very fast and staying completely still washed over her senses, outward and inward.

Her vision whited out, just whiteness everywhere and somewhere close, she felt crowded by something enormous, some_one_ and the body under her stilled. Susan knew the woman had just died and screamed into that noise that filled the world that she didn't want to be alone, _Don't leave me alone!__  
_

Then darkness came back, blessedly mundane and she wept with relief, shaken to her core at the things floating around in her memory, huge uncanny things that there was no earthly way of understanding. She shoved it all down, away and cradled her head in her hands until she was calm enough to open her eyes, which had closed, but hadn't kept her from seeing. Shivering, she pushed that thought away, too. Whatever was in her was thankfully quiescent, silent and she clung desperately to the idea that it wasn't there, had never been and then it shifted subtly like a restless sleeper and she nearly broke, a vision of herself dying in this pit a babbling madwoman the only thing that helped her get a grip. Steady, deep breaths, she counted them as she forced her diaphragm to work.

She yelped and leapt back from the cooling body as its mouth opened and a soft sussurating whisper broke from those lips, the same monotone drone that had first greeted them when they had entered here the first time. Horror flooded her as she realized that the woman was dead, but her body was still the plaything of these machines. Outrage swamped her with its thundering denial, it would not be_. I won't let it!_

She felt in her pockets for a flare and pulled one out with a snarl, found some incendiary ammo and tucked it around the body, its dead unseeing eyes almost joyful as she lit them up. The corpse was immolated in a few seconds and she lifted a hand to her mouth and nose to try to block out the stink of burning flesh to no avail. She crouched in a corner and let the tears come, sobbing quietly in the now near complete dark, the machines around her were winding down, maybe to stop completely, maybe to shut off the atmospheric cycling since the hole above was now closed, she saw neither light nor stars up in that distant darkness. An idea occurred to her as she thought this and she stood and looked for vents. A place like this had to have vents, something had to cycle the air and she searched, methodically, leaving no inch of wall unexplored.

Finally, she found one, a small circular hole that led upwards at an angle and that gave her hope. Up was good. She pried the grill off the hole, using a length of metal as a crowbar, tucking said 'crowbar' into her belt as an afterthought, she might need it later. Picking up her looted rifle, she crawled on hands and knees through the vent.

It was slow going, her tattered armor seemed to want to get caught on every seam and edge and she eventually tugged it all off and abandoned it, thinking ruefully that it was now the second set of armor she'd had to trash. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this, maybe she should have stayed home with mom and Javik. She resisted the urge to curl up into a ball and cry and concentrated on moving forward. When the path forked, she always chose the one that headed upwards, pausing to look into rooms.

A distant thumping tickled the edge of her hearing, someone was banging around down here and she trembled in hope at the thought of finding someone alive and then sobered thinking, what if they're more of the enemy and she lamented leaving her armor behind. She'd have to be canny, careful and she edged forward with determination.

The banging was soon accompanied by cursing and her eyes widened as her vocabulary expanded just a bit more and she soon found herself peering into a room that was obviously a jail cell. There was a human male in it, in loose nondescript clothing, snarling as he hammered at the door with a piece of metal he'd pried off his bunk, voice a gravelly rumble avalanching into a primal shout, "C'mon, you goddamn piece of shit! Cowards, the lot of you, sons of cunting whores! Fuck, fucking...FUCK!"

She must have made some noise as she tried to suppress a bout of near hysterical laughter because that figure below swung around, crouched, ancient weathered face tight as it peered about warily. Gray hair over a deeply scarred face, with fresh wounds all over, presumably from torture and she realized she knew who this man was, and cleared her throat, wincing as the ex-merc's seething eyes latched onto where she hid in the ventilation shaft, timidly she said, "Zaeed Massani?"

"Who wants to know?" Hostile, but curious, she could see it in the tilt of his head as he stepped closer. Her position was far out of reach and she felt relatively safe up here and leaned forward, threading her fingers through the grating.

She spoke softly, "My name is Susan. I was part of an insertion team sent to get you out of here."

The human snorted, "What went wrong?"

"Pardon me?" Her heart thumped as the man's eyes took on a feral, cunning light and she knew her quavering voice had given away more than she'd wanted to.

"Well, judging from all the goddamn noise you were making, crawling around up there, you're not the type they usually send through the ducts. You know, the sneaky...assassin-y type. So how did it all go pear shaped?"

She swallowed and took a deep breath, "There were...traitors, on my team. I'm...alone now."

"The rest are dead?" He was right under her now, she could see the mismatched eyes narrow in suspicion and...sympathy? She shook her head at the strangeness of it all.

"I..don't know..." She hung her head for just a moment then clenched her fist in resolve. No more would be lost today, or be turned into that...whatever it was that they'd done to Miranda. She scooted back a few feet and braced her boots against the grating, "Stand back."

She grunted as she kicked the grating and soon it flew off and landed below with a clang and she leaned out to check on Zaeed. He looked back up at her in surprise, "Asari? Huh, thought you sounded human. Don't suppose you have any ordinance on you, something we can blow this door with?"

She shook her head, sadly she'd not a single grenade or C12 block, "I got heatsinks and flares and a rifle, that's it."

The human sighed in resignation and pulled the remains of his bunk closer to the vent, standing on it with arms stretched toward her, "Well, airducts it is then. Give us a hand up."

Ten minutes of effort and they were both soon crawling along, Susan in front, leading them generally in the direction she'd been headed. A low whistle from behind had her shooting a glare at her new companion. Zaeed looked back at her mildly, a slight leer on his lips. Susan resumed moving forward, "Hands off, old man."

"Oi, just lookin'. I can appreciate a nice rump when I see one. 'Sides, you're a bit on the young side for me. What are you, hundred and twenty, hundred and thirty?"

"Twenty-six." Now would come the questions, she was sure of it. And she wasn't disappointed.

"Goddamn UAF's recruiting babies now, are they? How'd you get them to take you? Doubt it was just your nice ass-ets." Zaeed's voice had a smirk in it and she suppressed the urge to slap him. Now wasn't the time or place.

"I have a...genetic disorder. I age faster than other asari. I have maybe three hundred years tops." She kept it short, factual.

"Oh, good and here I was feeling guilty over ogling what amounted to preteen backside. I might be a dirty old man, but I ain't no pedo." Oddly that made her feel more comfortable around the human, he had scruples, she could see, even though she could also see that he was no paragon of virtue. She smiled to hear an amused rumble come from him, "This reminds of the time I-"

"Are you not concerned about being overheard? Maybe this isn't the best time to start sorting your memoirs." She interrupted, trying to sound stern.

"Aw, don't worry about them. They jump ship every time they test whatever it is they're testing. Though I'm guessing from the noise and that light and the weird 'my stomach is gonna drop out of my arse' feeling that they finally did...it, whatever 'it' is."

Susan locked gazes with him for a moment, sure some of her horror was leaking through the stare, "What were they trying to do? I saw...There was a woman..."

"Miranda? Yeah, they used to take me in to see her when I was being especially uncooperative, standard threats, lots of fist shaking and yelling. As if this was my first time being interrogated." He snorted derisively then eyed her speculatively, "You saw her did you?"

Susan nodded, "She's dead."

Genuine remorse filled his eyes and his mouth twisted down in a hateful sneer, "The bastards are gonna pay, soon as I get out of here."

She nodded again in heartfelt agreement and continued on, pausing over a corridor with what looked like a elevator at the end. Massani scooted up next to her and said in excited tones, "That's how they brought me down, goes right up into a hangar."

She felt a thrill of hope, they were going to get out then her heart fell as she thought of where she was going to go. Doubtless, if Marcus got out, she'd been labeled a traitor, was maybe even now being hunted by her former compatriots. She bit her lip as she worked to remove the vent cover, the length of metal she'd picked up was indeed handy and soon they'd both dropped lightly into the corridor and were strolling almost sedately, as if they weren't in some secret facility, full of experimental tech, that had until recently been full of batshit cultists.

The ride up the elevator was quiet as the two people within it thought private thoughts. Finally, Zaeed said, "We have to leave quickly. They've never been gone this long before, so I don't know if something went wrong or if they're waiting for us up there. I hope they left a shuttle, or maybe a ship, that'd be aces, as Joker used to say. Can you pilot?"

She winced, "It's not my strong suit, but I can manage."

"Good, I wish I had my old armor. I feel naked without it." The doors opened and they cautiously peered out into the darkened hangar. There were many ships in here, most in a state of disrepair and she spotted one at the back that seemed mostly intact. They stalked out slowly into the open, wary of any danger that may pop up, but it was silent, even the mechs were offline. With a sigh of relief, she trotted up the ramp into a tiny tiny ship, barely more than a shuttle and plopped down into the pilot's chair, starting the long startup sequences to get them out of there.

_With any luck, we'll be home in no time and I can start trying to convince mom to help us with her sneaky Shadow Broker ways. Hopefully without too much drama and browbeating. _Just think of her mother made her suddenly eager to see her, to be enfolding in those loving arms, to pour her heartache and fear into those understanding ears. She wanted that so bad, she had to quell the trembling in her arms.

She studied the telemetry readings for a moment before making a sound of utter disbelief, "That's...impossible."

"What?" Zaeed looked over her shoulder and growled as he scratched his head in puzzlement, "I can't make heads nor tails of that mumbo jumbo. What is so bloody impossible?"

"According to this thing, we're not where we're supposed to be. The whole damn moon isn't where it's supposed to be." She looked up as the hangar doors opened, there was utter blackness beyond, no sun, no stars, "We're in dark space, past the rim."

"How far? Too far to make it in this rust bucket?" He seemed not surprised at all, just grunted as his eyes flicked rather disinterestedly out there in all that black.

"I don't think you quite understand-"

"Oh, I understand. I also understand that we're not getting anywhere just sittin' here moonin' at it, so tell me, can we make it to a relay?" He sighed in relief at her tentative nod, "Good, now plot the course, if you please, Miss...er, what did you say you're last name was again?"

She let her mouth run as her mind was occupied with the numbers, "T'soni."

Sudden clanging silence intruded on her busy mind and she glance curiously into that craggy human face, frozen in an expression of guilt and horror. Dread filled her as she pushed the last key, letting the auto pilot take them out of the massive doors before them. She stood, bracing her hands on the bulkhead for what was surely going to be a terrible revelation. Turning slightly, she waited, heart pounding viciously in her chest. Zaeed, showing hesitation and reluctance for the first time said in a low agonized voice, "They have her."

Her hands at his throat, her slight weight pinning him to the wall as she ground out through clenched teeth, "You broke. You told them who wrote the book."

She squeezed, her fury incandescent as it burned in her and he gasped, not even fighting back and it was the shame and self disgust in his eyes that finally made her pause and she let him go abruptly and he collapsed to his knees, drawing in heaping mouthfuls of air, finally croaking out, "I didn't want to. They had this asari come in and fiddle with my brain, took what she wanted without even the courtesy of giving me a handy."

She wiped the tears that had decided it was a good time to flow off her cheeks angrily, trying not to think of what they were doing to Liara just then. The nightmarish memories of Miranda kept wanting to surface and she mewled, deep in her throat, begging silently for reprieve, from anyone, any quarter, just a moment to stop the sickening lump in her guts from flowing up her throat in a vomitous gush. She barely registered the arms that came up to encircle her, or the gravelly voice that was awkwardly trying to comfort her, a practice he was surely not familiar with.

Susan thrust herself away from Zaeed and sat in the pilot chair, turning it around in a vehement motion, with far more force than necessary and started replotting the course for beyond the relay. There was one place she could go, one person she knew who would listen before shooting. Massani sidled up and she saw him staring at her from out of the corner of her eye. Almost timidly, he reached out and grasped her shoulder, "We'll get her back."

Her voice almost surprised her with how low, cold and utterly_ final_ it sounded as it rolled out from between her lips, "Yes, we will."


	14. Chapter 14

_Lost, lost in the woods. His mind replayed that last moment over and over again, but skirted around the edges of the reasons for the razor edged feelings of shame and rage, directed at himself, cutting him with vicious slashes as they swum lazily around in the dark. He clawed at his face, feeling relief from the sensation of blood flowing down his cheeks, like the blood was the anger in him and he was letting it out. He looked down into palms filled with blue and tried to speak or scream or rail, but there was an obstruction, there was a-_

-gag in his mouth. The transition from unconscious to conscious was seamless. He was asleep but now he was awake, and it carried no significance that he could find. It just was and he grunted as he forced his eyes to open, almost slamming them back closed as the outside world tried to blind him with its intensity, shooting pains ran through his whole body as he slowly lifted his heavy, aching head. The clank of restraints greeted his ears as he tried to move. It felt like he was flying, floating? No...hanging.

His...ship, he was on his ship, instead of comfort and safety, the realization brought only fear. They had his ship, they had him._ Paulus?_ A pained groan pulled his attention to the right and just within his periphery, he saw his brother laying prone, nude, beaten if the many lacerations and broken plates were an indication. He unthinkingly tried to call his name, it came out as a muffled whimper. Paulus wasn't dead, that was...something, maybe this...situation, he winced at the clinical, cold word, was still salvageable somehow. He pulled at his restraints, finding very little give. Whoever had tied him up was clearly an expert.

Marcus fought the rising panic and forced himself to stillness, evaluating every aspect like he would on the battlefield. His hardsuit was gone, he was clad in the tattered remains of his underarmor. He was stretched between floor and ceiling, legs and arms akimbo, pulled taut by straps of metal and leather that cut into his flesh cruelly, the same type they used for securing cargo. No wonder he ached, there's no telling how long he'd been strung up like this. Can't have been too long, he wasn't sore enough for that. It felt awfully untenable, like his arms may dislocate from his shoulders at any time. Its purpose must be to keep him off balance and his mind whispered, much to his dismay, that it was working.

"Even bound, you are still so, hmm, formidable." He froze at the sound of her voice and swung his head as far to the left as he could, hoping that somehow it wasn't her, that his heart hadn't betrayed them after all and felt his gorge rise as her face swam into focus. She leaned casually against the bulkhead, arms crossed, watching him as he fought the tide of anguish, muffled cries of denial against his gag. She stepped around the construct holding him and almost tenderly unclasped his gag, pulling it away from where it was tied to his mandibles.

He worked his mouth to loosen stiff muscles and his gaze skittered away from her, still hoping for proof that this wasn't real, that this wasn't happening. Finally, he worked up the nerve to try his voice as he pleaded, soft and hoarse, it felt like he'd been gargling glass, "Why?"

"Did you think you could get away with it forever, Marcus? The relentless plundering of our treasures and defiling of our temples?" She put a hand to his face and he wrenched away from her, certain for a moment that he was going to vomit. She grabbed him roughly by the chin and made him look at her and even now, he couldn't help himself from feeling a wave of longing for her, she was his bondmate, his heart was hers and how it tore at him now, "Yes, I see that you did. How arrogant, but you were never lacking for ego, were you?"

There was growing hole in him, gnawing at everything he was, everything he believed, "What do you want from me?"

She hummed in amusement, "Of course, that brilliant mind has worked out that I want something from you, otherwise why would I have let you wake up? Why not just kill you and your brother and take your ship? Maybe..."

And he looked into her blue eyes, pleading her to say that it wasn't true, that this was all a mistake, a nightmare, something, and she smiled, and he saw the lie in her azure stare and wondered in bleak despair if it had always been there and he had been too blind to see it. She dug her too sharp talons into his flesh as she continued, smoothly, in a voice that mocked him and his misconceptions, "Maybe I want more than just intel. Maybe I want to show you something. Maybe I want you to _hear._"

She spun away from him then and gestured toward the porthole opposite him. The moon they'd just left hung in the sky and he saw other bright specks out there, more ships against backdrop of the cold world that moon spun around. She addressed the ship, "Ushal, open the broadband comms to the facility."

There was silence from the geth that piloted his ship and she tutted under her breath, saying warningly, "Ushal, you know what I'll do if you don't obey."

She opened her omnitool, "Sanders, bring me Kinz, our geth is being...uncooperative."

The human engineer soon appeared from the aft cargo area, the quarian bound and staggering in front of him. Shoved from behind, Kinz landed on his knees with a sharp cry and Aleia grabbed him by his face mask and tore it free. She spread her mandibles in pleasure and Marcus was sickened all over again by the sadistic joy she seemed to find in tormenting them. She lifted her face to the ceiling as she once again spoke to the ship, "Ushal, how long do you think Kinz will survive now that his suit is breached? How long til all those germs squirm their way into every pore and orifice?"

"Further damage to Creator Kinz'atol is unnecessary. I will comply." The geth's voice rolled over them from the ship's many intercoms and a sound came over the comms, drifting to them from the base on the moon. It was tinny and weak because of the equipment, but powerful in a way he couldn't describe. His mouth dried as it seemed to flow through him.

"Watch, beloved, watch the miracle..." Her voice held an entranced note and if his eyes had not already been riveted to that sphere that suddenly seemed so bright and growing brighter, like a tiny sun, they would surely have obeyed her. The waves of sound built to a crescendo and with an indefinable, almost audible snap, the moon vanished. He blinked in wonder, was it destroyed, where had it gone? No debris floated there that he could see. If that was a weapon, then they were all doomed. Aleia laughed in delight, "You can't deny the truth of that, Marcus."

"Susan..." Paulus' voice called plaintively, broken and rough, it floated softly through the mess and Marcus swiveled his head to meet his brother's tortured gaze. He'd watched the moon disappear with them, from where he lay in a heap on the decking. "You barefaced bitch."

"Oh, come now, Paulus, you only knew her for what, a month?" Aleia tutted, and signaled Sanders to drag the turian over to them and Marcus watched her fairly glow with the pleasure of having three powerful males broken before her, saw it in the way her pupils dilated and mandibles twitched.

"She was brave and true and if I get the chance, I will kill you." Paulus said weakly as he was made to kneel before her, almost slumping over with his infirmity. Marcus scanned his body and quailed at the horrendous wounds that had been inflicted on him, burns and some whole plates were stripped away, leaving large swathes of flesh open to bleed, it spattered the floor under him in cerulean drops. Guilt poured bitter words into his ear,_ You're fault for not seeing, for letting this barefaced liar within a hundred lightyears of your baby brother. _He shook his head violently to try to banish the thought that tried then to rob him of his wits.

"She was a great...distraction, allowed me to put you both exactly where I wanted you. I will miss her." Aleia hummed in amusement, drawing her pistol, "And now that you've witnessed the will of the god, it's story time."

"Like they did with Massani." Marcus said, biting back an irrational bubble of hysterical laughter. He was coming unhinged, his control was threatening to leave him as bereft of sense as the woman before him had done of his heart. "Fuck you."

Her eyes flashed in anger at him and she pressed close to dig her too sharp talons into his sides, and he gasped involuntarily, feeling a shock of unwanted arousal spike through him, "Even now, you still want me, I can taste it on you. What will Paulus think of you now? You with your cock still hard for a traitor. A traitor who bled him as you hung unconscious and helpless in your own ship."

Shame, deep and horrible as he realized the truth of her words. He could still feel the plates wanting to loosen and thrashed in his bonds, anything to drive her presence away before he revealed the depth of his depravity. Worse was the pitying stare his brother gave him, its understanding not the balm Paulus meant it, but pure vitriol, caustic and burning. He wanted to keen in the wake of it, but bit that part back. He didn't deserve an outlet, he'd done this to them, he could only hope that this was near the end and death would spare him the humiliation of living with the knowledge of the consequences of his blindness.

"Back to business, pleasure will have to wait." She lifted her pistol and pointed it at the three of them in turn, "I need the pilot to keep our pet geth in check, but you two, well, if you can't be collared, then your usefulness extends only so far as you keep my interest. I'll start. Once upon a time, there was a girl. A turian girl who had a dreadful affliction. When she got angry or upset, things happened, sometimes objects flew around or valuable things, like mother's pendant, would break with no hand touching them and try as he might, her father wasn't able to beat it out of her."

He was breathing heavily now, his brother's blood scent mixing with his own in the space that suddenly seemed far too small to contain whatever tumultuous tide of madness lay beneath his waining restraint. His eyes kept darting to find an angle, an advantage, finding none.

"One day, while on the Citadel, because her father took her everywhere to make sure she didn't cause any trouble, a human with beautiful markings all over her skin found her on the Presidium, where she'd run away, where she'd found a hiding spot to keen and be upset in sweet solitude and this human woman talked to the girl about the things that had happened to her and promised to help. And she did. The woman took her from her father, who'd foolishly tried to stop her and now lay bleeding in the hall, and they flew away on metal wings to far Palaven, where the girl met others like her, was allowed to go to a regular school. And as if that weren't a large enough gift on its own, the woman named Jack stayed for a time and told them all stories, wondrous stories about a famous human commander named Shepard and all the marvelous, impossible things she'd done for them all and it was like a light grew within the girl. And there was the music, that Shepard wrote, the music spoke to her, whispered secrets in her heart and the girl finally felt...loved."

"It was at this school that the lost girl met Damalia, who always had the best games, the best stories. But the girl felt something was missing, that Dama was holding something back and through much cajoling, finally heard the best story of all. I know you know what story I'm talking about." She leaned in close and Marcus tried to duck away from her scent, once so inviting, now just cloying, a reminder of all that...betrayal, "And now, I want you to tell me about what you saw on that day in the spring."

"If you're going to kill us, just kill us." A swift death would be preferable to this torture. He prayed his hope was answered.

Aleia laughed lightly, dashing those hopes, "I don't want to kill you, beloved. You don't deserve a thing so...merciful."

Wordlessly, he cried out as that pistol swung toward his brother with deadly intent, its trigger squeezed gently. He echoed Paulus' cry as the bullet pierced his body through the shoulder, felt it like it had torn through his own flesh and he thrashed around again, choking on his own bile. She waited patiently as Marcus worked himself to exhaustion, sagging once more in his shackles. Aleia spoke softly into the silence that only contained their heavy breathing, pistol up and ready to shoot again, "Tell me, Marcus."

"Don't! Please! Don't hurt him any more." He begged. They'd sworn never to speak of the thing they'd seen and his brother's eyes begged him to stay silent now and he croaked, "I-I-Aleia I c-can't-"

Two shots rang out and Paulus shrieked in pain while he only had the strength left to whimper. Aleia forced him to look at her as she said, in tones that spoke of conviction, "Next time, it'll be three. The time after that, four. If I don't hit any of the vital parts, we can play this game all day."

He drew a deep and shuddering breath letting it out in a soft keen, head sagging down onto his chest and looked at her from under lowered brows, heart pounding painfully in his chest, unable to reconcile the woman he'd loved and the monster before him, "How long, Aleia? How long have you been planning this?"

Suddenly furious, she raked her talons over his burnt face, popping blisters he hadn't known were there til then and it was his turn to shriek in agony, as a torrent of fluids leaked down his cheeks, "Ever since I found out you knew the truth about the Shepard. Ever since you had the gall to keep this miracle to yourself. Did you think I would forgive?"

"Truth, what does that even mean to you people? You don't know the truth, I don't know the truth. What happened that day, what we saw-" He bit off the rest, aware that he'd come dangerously close to spilling it all and her hand found his chest, stroking it in a mockery of the affection she used to show him. He shook as he repelled the tide of feelings he still had for her, screaming silently that he was a bastard for loving the woman torturing his brother and him. He writhed there, torn in half with conflict.

Her silken voice found him no matter how far he'd withdrawn from it all, her tones a soft beguiling command, "Just tell me the story, Marcus. And repeat it for anyone I ask you to, in any ear I ask you to."

She was going to use him to convert more people to her cause and with sickening horror, he knew that it would be so very effective. He would be her puppet, a pet varren and he couldn't even find it in himself to hate her. He was weak and she had won. And as he watched the pistol swing toward Paulus again, time seemed to slow and something within him broke and he felt damning words rush out of his mouth, "No! Wait! I'll tell you, just don't. Please."

"I knew you'd see reason. Here, I'll make it easy for you." She hummed in approval, "There once was a planet of water, where he who was the best of us built a house on a beach, his family came to visit him once in a while, a sister, her husband and their five beautiful children. And on one occasion, they saw a marvel. Did you see a marvel, Marcus?"

"...yes..." He hissed as she caressed his cowl, hating himself for the spike of desire that flushed under his plates. He was truly sick, and would have curled upon himself if the restraints had let him. Everything he'd thought of himself was a lie, he was a weakling, a coward.

"And what did you see?" She coaxed.

"I...saw Shepard..." His eyes rolled madly at the admission, still looking for escape, his mind thrown back to the memory of a warm sandy beach and his uncle's voice saying, _'Can you keep a secret, kids?' _Marcus croaked, "Uncle Garrus said she was...the spirit of war. And then she just...vanished."

Aleia threw a triumphant smirk at Sanders, who seemed enthralled at this. Kinz moaned and shook where he kneeled, Marcus saw perspiration on that lavender face under the hood and knew that the quarian was succumbing to fever. Aleia ran her hand over his fringe and massaged the skin at the back of his neck and he twitched, suppressing a groan, she chuckled darkly at his reaction, "You once told me that you were mine. That all you are is mine. Are you mine, Marcus?"

His guts flipped around in his body and he choked back vomit as he avoided what was surely a look of disgust and pity in Paulus' grey eyes. He forced his darting gaze to lock on her face, had to see if she was false in the wake of his question, "Will you let him go?"

"Let's just say, if you say yes, I'll consider letting him live." It was desperation that made him clutch at this faint hope. Paulus couldn't die because of him, he couldn't bear it if that came to pass.

He shut his eyes tightly and gathered what little reserves he had left to force the words to pass his stiff lips, which they did all too easily, to his horror, "I am yours."

Marcus tried to shut out the choked keen he heard pulled from Paulus' lips, the pit of madness in him threatened to swallow him whole. Dully, he heard Aleia sigh deeply in satisfaction, "You know what the best thing about being with you was, Marcus? Seeing you lose control, making you lose control. You were so mighty, so contained in yourself, and sure of your skills and your place in the galaxy, and now you are brought so low. I did that."

_No, I did that, with my hubris._ He shuddered as that thought rushed over his skin, tearing at what little remained of his sanity. It was all his fault and now he would live to pay for it, but better a betrayer than a kinslayer. Aleia reached down and freed his feet and he almost cried out in relief at the sudden release of tension on his arms.

She looked into his face and smiled at how he ducked his head, cowed and humbled, "I wish you could see what I see in my mind. As we speak, our forces are taking over countless ships and colonies. It was amazing how eagerly the Vagabonds flocked to our banner, we even own most of the Spectres now. And in time, the miracle we just witnessed will win us the galaxy. Ushal, set a course for Rannoch."

"No!" Kinz stirred for the first time, struggling in his bonds and Sanders struck him across the back of the head with his shotgun, but the feverish quarian shrugged it off and stood, flinging himself at Aleia with a snarl on his face. The female turned her weapon from his brother and Paulus lunged to his feet with a lurch, grabbing her around the waist in a clumsy hold, pulling her down under his weight. She broke out of his loose choke hold and stood in one smooth motion, her back to Marcus. Time slowed to a crawl as Marcus watched that dreaded pistol of hers raise, the muzzle flare was almost blinding and the bullet flew lazily toward Paulus' skull as the nude and bloody turian launched himself through the air at her.

He was splashed with warm liquid and his mind barely registered it as his brother's blood and brain matter, but as he watched Paulus' body fall to the side with half his cranium missing, eyes already dull in death, a muffled gutteral scream he recognized as his own sounded in the suddenly too quiet room and it built within him with blinding ferocity and deafening force and he finally felt hate, pure and unadulterated and he lashed out with his legs, grabbing that female who'd done this to him and his brother around her midsection and dragged her in, pulling with all his might to bring her within range of his teeth. She punched and squirmed and in his rising madness, he heard himself shouting, dimly, like it was far away, "I'll kill you! I'll fuckin' kill you! You fucking bitch!"

He almost laid his teeth to her, so close, her throat within inches, he'd revel to spill her sweet, sweet blood, swim in it if he could manage it and she bludgeoned him with her pistol, over and over in the side of his head until he was near senseless, keening a wail as his eyes found Paulus, so sadly empty there, staring back in accusation and he pulled his legs up to try to curl on himself, and ended up thrashing in convulsions that he had no more control over than he had his disgusting groveling earlier.

The ship lurched and threw Aleia and Sanders off their feet, but his gaze was only for Paulus as the corpse slid over the decking limply to bump lightly against Kinz, whose empty stare and still chest told him that the quarian had also expired during the fight.

Aleia shouted, "Sanders, pull the orb! We'll fly this ship manually!"

"I have disabled all communications with the other vessels." The blast doors over the cockpit slammed shut just as Sanders reached them, sealing the AI's core from them. "And as I am not an uncaring being, you have twenty seconds to evacuate before I crash this ship into the world below."

Aleia made one last plea, her tones verging on conciliatory, "I'm sorry about Kinz, but be reasona-"

"You will never know her. The geth will never give you what you want. Ten seconds and counting." Marcus felt it when the mass effect fields faltered and doubly felt an inexorable pull on the ship from the planet's gravity well and knew the kindness the geth was doing him, them really, and that one small part of him that was sane and aware of what was going on felt gratitude. Aleia and Sanders scrambled to the escape pod and those doors closed with finality. Ushal's voice came to him softly, almost an apology, "I am sorry, Vakarian-CO. This was the only option left to me."

He choked back a keen, gaze still locked on his brother, his dead brother, and whispered, "Do it."

He felt heat and great forces exert on him as they descended in a fireball to the icy sphere below and the last thought he thought as oblivion took him was, _Susan, I was so wrong. I'm sorry._


	15. Chapter 15

_Fuck,_ his first conscious thought and one swiftly chased away by the sensation of being far too cold for comfort. Icy wind lanced through his thin underarmor and he shivered weakly, a thin mewl pulled itself out of his throat. A slight shift of his head brought agony from his right shoulder and he pried his eyelids open to blink blearily in the gloom of a ruin of a ship. Memory, sluggish and torpid, recognized key features of the technology around him, though it tried to superimpose images of how it should look over the current vision before his eyes. Everything was askew, tilted at a disorienting and unnatural angle, and he realized that he was swinging back and forth gently in the wind that invaded his ship through the huge hole that used to be the entire starboard side.

How had he survived planetfall? He gingerly picked at his faded and quiescent memory and remembered a strange sensation right before the feeling of motion ceased, like a...cushioning or something like that. His pulse picked up as his mind tried to recall other things, painful things and he shut it down with a growl. No, no, he could fly apart at any moment, if he let it unspool and show him whatever horrible thing it wanted to show him.

He wiped at his crusty face with a hand and then stared at it for a time, it slowly dawned on him that it wasn't bound like it had been before. The broken length of metal and leather cinched around his wrist a puzzlement, there should be a band of beaten gold there and the thought provoked an emotion of utter revulsion and he spat bile to the cracked and crazed decking below him. With that hand that he realized must have come free in the crash, he gently explored the agony in his shoulder, found it stretched above him and finally looked up, wincing at the jarring pain.

He still hung from the supports above the mess, by one arm, which was dislocated if he was to judge by the feel of it and wondered how long he'd been hanging there, limp and bloody, and nearly naked in the cold. He looked around for something he might grab or brace against to get himself down from there, but nothing was in reach, the floor was even further away than usual. Gritting his teeth, he saw only one option and it was going to hurt like a bastard.

Slowly, he flexed the muscles in his trapped arm, gasping as pain shot through him in waves. Breathing in heaving mouthfuls of air as he pulled himself up, he grunted with the effort of staying conscious through the waves of blackness that wanted to break over him with tsunami-like force. He finally wrapped his free hand around the girder and nearly keened in relief as half the pressure was taken of his damaged shoulder. Halfway there, now for the rest.

Using both arms now, which was both easier and harder because while the joint effort of his arm muscles shared the burden, the damaged one threatened to fail at any moment, he lifted his mass, and pulled his legs up to hook them in the supports so he'd have some slack to undo the clasp around his wrist, which he did forthwith and then just let himself hang from the tilted ceiling by his legs, both arms blessedly free for the first time in what felt like and eon. He shivered in the cold air, knowing that if he let himself hang around like this for too much longer, he'd soon die of exposure. His brain whispered that maybe that would be for the best, for surely being alone in this sundered vessel, having survived whatever horrors he had, was no blessing and he shook his head in denial. One thing at a time, getting down from the ceiling was a priority.

In the end, he opted for just dropping and rolling with the impact. It was hell on his dislocated shoulder, but he managed it, rolling further than he'd intended and ending up in a snowdrift that had built up on the split side of the ship. It was freezing on his mostly naked body and he scrambled to be free of the stuff. His hands dived in to find leverage to lift himself out and encountered cold, unyielding flesh and he cried out, knowing in his heart what it was, though his mind tried to deny it. A swipe of a hand revealed a much loved face, its grey eyes open and empty and a choked sound rose from his throat as he pulled that cold body to his chest, cradling its ruined head in his arms.

"Paulus, spirits, no..." And then the tide of memories swept him away and he keened, clutching his dead brother closer. His grief shattered his mind all over again and he howled into the uncaring wilderness. He was alive and his brother was not. The wrongness of it shook him to the core. The promise he'd made to himself and his parents' spirits to keep his brother close, to keep him safe, broken. He was an oathbreaker three times over now, worthless, and weak, pitiful. How long he sat there with Paulus, calling his name as though he could somehow summon him back, he didn't know. Eventually, he just rocked back and forth, crooning softly like he had to all his siblings when their parents had been in that awful shuttle collision, he'd had to be strong for them, who'd looked to him for guidance and comfort. How wrong they'd been about him, he wasn't strong at all and if they'd known then what would happen now, that he'd let his good and brilliant brother die for his sins, surely they'd have turned from him just like they'd turned from Inigo after he'd shown his true colors.

And now, he was on a uninhabited planet, with no hope other than to die in inglorious anonymity with no one knowing what he'd done. It was a mercy he knew in his heart he didn't deserve, but one he traitorously craved. He shook with self loathing, even now he thought only of himself. Paulus' eyes looked up at him, unseeing and he imagined a thousand recriminations in their depths. and he begged for reprieve, for the spirits to take him now, but there was no answer from that quarter, no light or voice to tell him what was right, what should be done and he envied then the cultists and their madness. They at least had conviction, no matter how misguided.

It was the small things that undid him time and time again. Just when he'd find some sort of equilibrium, a snippet of memory would rise in the black depths of his mind and strip it away. Paulus and he on the Citadel, watching passersby and guessing what their business might be, each trying to outdo the other with outrageous hypotheses. Paulus trading rooms with him on the cruiser they'd first served on together so Marcus could get some respite from the overloud snores of his bunkmate. Paulus congratulating him on getting top marks in sniper school. Paulus catching him up on family news, because he'd always found time to call when Marcus hadn't. Paulus making him laugh to pull him out of his melancholy after Uncle Garrus had died. Every memory full of him and his bright spirit and his laughter, it was a torment and he suffered through each willingly, knowing that he deserved it.

Sometime later, it grew dark outside the ship and Marcus felt so cold, so very cold and stiff and was tempted to stay right where he was and let the dark consume him, but a small noise nagged at him, along with a pulsing faint light from the cockpit and unable to stop himself, he gently set his brother down and stood, the ache in his shoulder told him that he would have to do something about the dislocation soon or lose the use of that arm, possibly forever. He pushed the thought away and limped into the cockpit, it was the one room that was mostly intact except for the open ports, and shattered glass everywhere. He peered around for the source of the unwelcome disturbance of his mourning.

It was the orb, Ushal's orb throbbed faintly from where it was socketed into the ship's AI interface, the circuitry around it also lighting up in waves, Marcus spoke into the crackling hush, "Ushal?"

The faint static that emanated from the comms hissed and spluttered and he was able to hear a reply, albeit faintly, "Vaka-n-CO, ship d-ing. Interf-ce d-ged, n-d code inp- to s-fely re-ove h-rdw-"

The interface was damaged? Marcus hesitantly reached for the keyboard, it barely had any power, whatever juice the ship still had, Ushal must be funneling it to this one console. He typed in an inquiry and found a garbled mess where there used to be logical, organized code. He worked to unravel the tangle so Ushal could withdraw his programming back into the orb and almost screamed in frustration as his mind, still dazed and muddled, refused to make sense of it.

"Hu-rry. Code de-gra-ing." Panic set in, the geth was dying and he threw himself back into the work, using all his willpower to force his mind the task.

"Spirits, please, just let me save this one." He whispered the prayer desperately as his fingers flew over the keys. Finally, after what seemed like too long and he was just starting to despair, the last slippery knot had been untangled and that light in the ball that contained everything that was Ushal steadied and with a soft hiss, was released. It rolled across the tilted plane of the console and Marcus barely caught it in one hand as it dropped off the edge. Hope surged through him almost painfully, something went right for once. And, though he had no way to speak to the geth in his palm, he wasn't alone any more.

With that realization came the bleak thought that he couldn't let himself die now and join his brother in oblivion. He had someone to take care of and his conscience couldn't bear the thought of leaving the helpless geth to his isolated existence, to eventually go mad or worse. Marcus wondered briefly if geth could go mad and was shocked by the whole of his own inner being shouting at him that they'd never find out. Whipped into action by the thought, he left the cockpit and brought the ball to his lips, "Ushal, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going to do everything I can to get you out of this."

Was he imagining the brief flare of light from within the swirling depths of that orb? Possibly, it didn't matter and he looked around the downed ship in growing trepidation. The whole starboard side was exposed, split like a log, an endless expanse of white rolling hills beyond it, his cabin and all his belongings gone, along with most of the rest of the cabins. His brother's was on the port side, but he really didn't want to set foot in there, at least not until he'd exhausted every other option.

He found the ration packs still bound in their secure crates under the sink in the mess, enough to last months if he was frugal. At least he wouldn't starve, though he still might freeze to death if he didn't find shelter from the elements. He nearly dropped a crate as pain flared through his shoulder. It was clear that he wasn't going to be any good to anyone until he sorted that out so he felt around the joint with probing fingers, hissing as he did. Experimentally, he rotated the arm out in front of him and over his head and it screamed at him to stop, but he bit his tongue and continued. He was ready to give up after a few minutes, the pain excruciating and the ball of his shoulder refused to pop back into place. He could feel it trying to, but he just couldn't rotate it enough to make it go and he gasped with effort, wiping sweat from his brow.

Medigel, there had to be medigel somewhere. They'd been well stocked. Belatedly, he recalled a survival kit in the cargo area with a standard first aid kit inside, sedatives and painkillers and hopefully, medigel. It was dark in the tiny cargo hold, too dark to see much of anything and he pulled out Ushal and set him on a crate, feeling just a touch guilty for using the geth as a flashlight. He dug through some debris and finally found the kit, nearly spilling its contents everywhere in his eagerness to get at the painkillers.

He picked mild ones so they wouldn't knock him out and crunched them between his teeth, feeling almost instant relief from the quick release tablets. He found a length of rope and tied it around his left wrist and to a piece of twisted bulkhead at about head height. Maybe with some leverage, he could force his arm past that point he'd not been able to go past and it would finally realign. Sweating and shaking, he pulled at his own arm, rotating it as he did so and soon found that place that seemed to teeter on the edge of either final relief or unimaginable pain or possibly both and he squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his mandibles and gave a vicious yank. He screamed as the pressure built and then suddenly vanished with an audible snap.

Marcus sagged against the wall, knees weak. Black dots swirled in his vision and he shook his head clear of the fog. He felt at his shoulder again and found the pain greatly lessened, moved it and it moved with ease and he let his head drop back in relief. He'd done it, the shoulder was back in place and stood on shaky legs to go get the medigel. Without armor to distribute it subcutaneously, the medigel would be less effective but he spread it over the joint anyway and over any other wounds he could reach. It would be very bad to let any of them go septic.

Ushal went back into the pocket of his torn pants and he continued to hunt for supplies. He found not one piece of usable armor or functional weapon and growled in frustration. The light was almost all gone out there now, the sun having just set and he could feel the chill of the night stalking him like a predator. The survival kit had two thermal blankets, a tiny portable heater and a travois/cot in it and a knife. Reluctantly, he finally went into Paulus' room and was almost knocked over by how...occupied it was with his brother's things, his scent, his presence. He sat awkwardly on the tilted bed, a precarious perch that steadied him enough to look around.

There was the shotgun mod that Marcus had bought him when Paulus had graduated from basic, two years after he himself had done so. There was the vid poster for that terrible Blasto reboot that his brother loved so much, Paulus had loved anything with explosions in it, Marcus had teased at the time that Paulus had deep seated pyromaniacal tendencies. There was a shelf of medals and trophies that Paulus had earned sometime in his youth and Marcus realized he couldn't name a single one. He'd been too busy being the brilliant older brother with ambitions of greatness to notice. He covered his face with both hands, it was too much, his tired and broken heart surely couldn't take any more. There was almost more of his brother in this room than there was out there in his corpse.

Deep breaths, he counted them until he could think clearly again. Control, something he'd prided himself of always being in was now a fragile thing, brittle. She'd stripped him of it, and even at the end when he'd thought himself completely broken, the death of his brother had driven him ever further, turned him into an animal, teeth gnashing, hungry for blood. He'd weep if he was capable.

No, there was precious little left here to salvage. He clumsily grabbed a holo of the five of them off the floor and stood, swiftly exiting and closing the door almost reverently behind him. Ushal buzzed in his pocket and Marcus pulled out the geth, head tilted in confusion. There were motes of light swimming around in there and he held it up to eye height to try to see better and nearly dropped the orb as a beam, like a laser sight, shot out of the sphere and into the far wilderness, "What the hell?"

Marcus held Ushal up again and marveled when the event was repeated, in the same direction. Clearly there was something...out there. Something Ushal wanted him to go find and he grimaced at the thought of a trek into the unknown with no weapons or protection, but what else was he to do? He couldn't stay here, there was no way to seal the broken ship from the cold. He cut the two thermal blankets into rough tunics and tore a strip off both to make rough boots so he wouldn't lose heat that way, have it sucked away through the ground. Another couple of regular blankets on top of that, pulled around him like a cloak and he was almost warm again. He was still exposed in the leg region but that couldn't be helped now. Using long cable ties from storage, he rigged a harness for the travois and heaped as many supplies as he could upon it.

Another thought occurred to him and he dug around in the snow until he found Kinz. He dragged the quarian to lay beside his brother, wishing there was something that could be done for their bodies. He swore to himself to come back and bury them proper when he had the chance. He laid a hand over their chests and tried to remember the intoned prayer that had been spoken over his mother and father's caskets, the same one that had been spoken for his uncle. Another failing of his, that he'd never took an interest in nonsecular things. He settled for what he felt was what he really wanted, whispering, "Spirits, hold them close."

He tried not to disturb Kinz's body too much as he worked the interface at the quarian's neck free, along with the man's omnitool. He thought maybe he could rig a communication hub with them, so he could at least talk to Ushal, maybe in the same manner that Kinz had, through the suit's HUD. With one last longing look at his brother, he turned into the storm that was brewing outside, dragging the travois behind him as he slugged through the knee deep snow.

He pulled out the orb occasionally to make sure he was still headed in the right direction, but there was little to no visibility in the blinding blizzard. Through the many layers of blanket, he was starting to feel numbness creep over him and nearly laughed, maybe the weather would still claim him. A drowsiness settled over him, which he dimly knew to be a very bad sign and just when he'd decided to lay down for a bit, shapes loomed in the darkness. Artificial structures of some sort, as ruined as the ship he'd left behind and he felt a rush of anger.

He'd come out here to find another crashed ship? What was the use in that? Maybe it was a mistake. He pulled out Ushal and the light that broke from it pointed near the center of this cluster of girders and wrecked tech and he approached a snow covered plinth, vaguely needle like in shape, and encased in ice. It had to have been here for quite some time, decades maybe and he peered through the cloudy ice to try to see what exactly it was with little success. He did see lights in there so whatever it was, it had power running to it.

Marcus left it for now and explored the surrounding area. The dark made it all hard to piece together but the vessel's sleek lines seemed somehow familiar. He stopped at a bulky pile of snow, tired beyond measure now and leaned against it. It was sturdy, firmly rooted to the ground by ice and he kicked at it experimentally. Snow was scraped away to reveal giant treads on giant tires. A vehicle of some sort?

He brushed away as much snow as he could, ignoring the aching cold in his chapped hands, the plates cracking in the extreme chill_. _ _ It's a...mako? _He thought with amazement and tugged at a door latch. Of course it would be frozen shut, he chipped away at it with his knife until finally, he was able to slide the door open a few inches. He peered in and saw that the interior was untouched, sealed and intact and inwardly rejoiced at how hardy these old beasts had been. A shame that they'd long since been decommissioned, if they could survive time like this.

Using the last reserves of strength left him, he pried the door further open and pulled himself and the supplies in, somehow finding just a little more energy to shut it behind him. He dug out the portable heater and was barely conscious of lighting it when unconsciousness finally claimed him, a deep, dreamless torpor.

* * *

_It stank of the overworld, blood and hate and doubt and metal and, like an oily film over the whole, shame. He'd been asked to come here, by one of the karesh-igal, the tall ones, to help one who was worthy. He saw little of worth here, it huddled in the metal shell like a child, shivering, weak, half dead. His people, when they'd walked the world, would have eaten it, tossed its bones into a sun and forgotten it. It was his failing and triumph that he wasn't like his forebears, but he thrust the thought back, it was an ancient worry that had little to do with what he was trying to do now, what he'd agreed to do._

_He sniffed around the metal construct. He'd been warned to be gentle, patient and that rankled, but he couldn't deny the wisdom in it. It was hurt, it was in pain, both mental and physical and it would not understand him if he tried to speak plainly. There was not time enough in the galaxy to teach it manners, to teach it the high tongue, so he would have to be the one to learn. And through learning, gain worth, as it had always been. He felt eagerness at the thought and its rightness warmed him as he lifted his muzzle to the wind, feeling its cold embrace with something like affection. Yes, he would still walk the world for some time, though his people had long since moved on. He loved it so. _

_And he turned back to the wilderness, to run the steppes and hills until it was time to try his hand at...delicacy, as foreign a concept as that was. His people were not built for it. But for now, it was enough to feel the joy in the sensation of the ground pounding past his paws, the rush of the blizzard as it sought to tumble him from high places he'd climbed to with exultant effort. A different sky to gaze at, a different sun to warm his back, he imagined he felt this world's sorrow at the emptiness in its sky, where there should be a lunar body to exchange gravity laden caresses with. He snorted at his own fancy, but did feel a pang as he realized that the tides in the far icy oceans would soon ebb and the life there may or may not perish, adapt to the lack of tides or die. These beings in the overworld played with forces they barely understood and that, that had to be stopped._

* * *

Days passed, then weeks. He'd been back to the ship countless times, searching for useful things. The ground was hard and unyielding to the spade he'd found in the mako's storage bin, so he built cairns for his brother and Kinz out of the sizable rocks he'd been able to find under the snow. It was all he could do, it wasn't nearly enough, but what else could be done? Precious little. He'd rather have taken them home. _Home, _he thought briefly with a pang in his chest, Paulus deserved to be buried at home, next to their parents and grandparents in a garden of softly glowing carmine roses.

Touching that hard and frozen flesh again was one of the hardest things he'd ever done and he ached with grief as he placed the last rock. Dusk had settled over the snowy dunes by the time he decided to go back to the mako. As he made ready the things he'd found this time, stuffing them into a pack, something out of the corner of his eye moved and he found himself diving into cover before the conscious thought to move had even occurred to him. The thought that there were animals out here hadn't occurred to him til now and he drew his knife slowly to avoid making any noise as he peered cautiously around the edge of the upended table he was crouched behind.

He saw its shadow before he actually saw it. A hulking shape cast against the interior of the hull by the setting sun and he tensed, ready to fight or flee. It approached on four legs, whuffling at the ground, its breath a great steaming cloud coming out of a shaggy ursine head with far too many sharp pointy teeth in it for his comfort. He pulled back as its head reared up, ears perked forward and alert and wondered if it had seen him. An animal of that size could be trouble if he tried to take it head on, so he waited for an opportunity to present itself and just watched to see what it did.

It sniffed around as it explored the vessel, moving around obstacles with boneless grace, stopping to rub itself on things occasionally like it was marking the ship as its territory. Marcus edged around it as it moved further to the back, using every trick of stealth that he'd learned as a sniper, taking advantage of all the blind spots. The beast stuck its long neck into the cargo hold and Marcus made a break for it, sprinting out into the snow, heart racing. He expected the thing to chase him down any second now, expected the pain of sharp teeth and talons in his flesh, but not a single crunch of snow behind him, not one bestial roar and he slowed as he reached the top of the shallow valley and looked back, ducking behind an ice covered boulder.

It was exiting the vehicle in a nonchalant sort of amble, looking around in the twilight with huge blinking golden eyes and yawned before setting its nose back to the ground. Out here, it was smaller than his imagination had painted it, about chest high at its head, the body was long but not serpentine, its fur long and wispy in the breeze. He watched it flop to the ground and roll onto its back, furiously rubbing to and fro in the snow, looking for all the world like the largest varren pup he'd ever seen. The animal was making low contented noises as it joyfully squirmed in the drifts, making the snow pile up around it. It would be amusing if Marcus wasn't suddenly aware that his ship was being claimed by another and he'd more than likely never be able to come back here. At least, he'd buried his brother before the animal had the chance to eat him. He shuddered at the thought and crept slowly back, only resuming his normal ground eating pace when he was sure he was out of sight.

The sight of the mako on the horizon was never more welcome and he jumped in without preamble, slamming the door shut behind him. He pulled Ushal out of his pocket and set him on a crate, "Seems we're not alone out here, there's an animal taking up residence in our ship. I don't think I'll be able to go back there, but look what I found."

He pulled the broken thing out of his pack, felt the familiar curve of it under his thumbs. The lens was cracked but it was functional. The numbers it flashed were crazed and nonsensical, but more importantly, it had an audio hook up, one that could be adapted to the pieces of Ushal's interface he'd scavenged from Kinz's corpse. He set to work immediately, painfully eager to hear a familiar voice other than his own.

He pared down the tech until only the essentials lay before him, the socket and its hardware, the omnitool whose code he'd broken but had been unable to use to connect to the extranet, presumably because there were no relay buoys out in the space around this planet, and his visor. Going slowly because there were no replacement parts if he messed up, he cobbled together a rough and rudimentary version of the program that allowed Ushal to interact with his ship, knowing that if he could manage to get it online at all, Ushal could use his own code to improve it where needed.

Finally, after hours of grueling work, he sat back and admired his creation. The omnitool, once just a small device that blossomed into a holographic display, now resembled a metal gauntlet, circuitry all over its surface, the socket nestled on the underside of his wrist. He slid the orb into the socket, grinning to himself when it locked into place with a hiss. He was alarmed when Ushal started flickering, but calmed himself as the silicon lines filled with orange light, dim but clearly active. He put on his visor and waited in the silence, hoping that this was going to work, praying for it to work. When he could stand it no more, he whispered, "Ushal, can you hear me?"

Whirring and clicking in his ear, he recognized the geth language such as it was. It modulated as he listened, until words became recognizable in all that chatter, "Vakarian-CO, I am...present. System reboot...large holes. Will need...time and more...power."

He cradled his head in his hands and shook with relief. _Thank the spirits. _"Ushal, welcome back."

"I...had not...left. Blind...almost deaf...but here." Another few clicks and the light in the orb dimmed almost to nothing and Marcus panicked, reaching for the sphere to take it out, but before he could, he was halted by Ushal's voice, "Power source...present. Three...meters to...the south."

"The plinth? It's all covered over in ice. I haven't been able to make much of a dent in it." He scrubbed at his face with his right hand, its cuff of metal and leather still present, he'd not taken it off but to wash the crusted blood and filth from his wrist so the deep ligature marks wouldn't fester.

"Entering...conservation mode. Only...communi...cate...when necessary." The gauntlet shut off then, leaving him in the gloom of the mako.

His hands itched to do something, go out there and pound at that ice with his fists until it broke free, but he knew it was just nerves and fear prodding him. Fear of silence, fear of being alone. There had to be a better way. Maybe there was something in the tool bin. He'd barely even touched it, there had been so much to do just to survive that exploring had taken a back burner.

Now, energized from having finally done something useful, he dragged the chest out from where it lay near the back and flung it open. Slowly, he excavated the tools. Spanners, wrenches, drill bits all soon found a place on the tank's decking around him, neatly sorted. Past the detritus, there was more order to it all. Each layered tray was for a particular job he saw. This one for patching tires, this one for calibrating brakes, another for realigning suspension. It was very organized, very...turian and he frowned at the thought, seemingly random and shook his head.

The tools got larger the further down he went and he stumbled across a tool that had him almost leaping up with a shout of triumph. A blowtorch! With three tanks of fuel, enough to last years if need be. He lifted it out and set it in front of him. This would free that plinth out there, free it in no time flat. If it wasn't dark out, he'd go do that now. His common sense dictated he wait til morning and he reluctantly agreed with a sigh.

He looked back into the box and his breath caught in his throat. There, under all those tools and things, was a rifle. A sniper rifle, ancient, outmoded, but still, a rifle. He snatched it up greedily and ran wondering hands over its gleaming surface He looked for heatsinks and found none. There wasn't even a chamber for them on the gun. The grip was worn smooth from use. Someone had loved this gun, he saw how clean it was, how well repaired all its small parts were, parts that almost always got neglected by careless hands and rejoiced to feel a weapon in his palms again. He hugged it close, wondering if it still fired at all.

Unable to help himself, he propped the door open a fraction, wincing at the bitter bite of the wind as it invaded the warmth of his sanctuary and leaned out, sighting along the perfectly aligned barrel, feeling that slow rush of exultation as he squeezed the trigger and the most welcome musical sound reached his ears in the form of a loud bang. It was functional, he almost felt like leaping about like a madman. A light on the side of the rifle drew his eye and he watched a meter, reading the weapon's heat no less, slowly return to zero. This weapon was made before the advent of heatsinks, it would never need to be reloaded. What a boon he'd found.

He wondered who'd owned it, why it felt so perfect in his hands and rushed back in to see if there were any more treasures in that box. Nothing, just a cloth for wiping down the gun. Or was there nothing? He lifted the edge of the cloth gingerly, feeling a wave of premonition, at what he didn't know and under that bit of chamois, he saw the edge of a holo. With shaking fingers, he lifted it out and nearly dropped it in shock. For a moment, his eyes refused to take in the details, only that there were three turians in the frame. His mind reeled. A turian on an Alliance frigate, a _turian_ on an Alliance frigate. And then he knew. And his mouth dried in dawning realization. This wreck was the Normandy, the first Normandy, the SR-1.

He stared at the holo until his mind was forced to recognize those broad shoulders, that unscarred face with its vibrant blue markings, an echo of the slightly shorter, older turian standing a few feet from him. A female stood in the space between them, her arms around their waists in a gesture that clearly indicated family, though the standoffish stances of the men belied that. His mother looked back at him with a mischievous smirk, her young face fierce and exuberant. She can't have been much older than fourteen in this holo.

His heart pounded a resounding tattoo in his chest as he stared and stared, and stared some more. Was it blind chance that led him here? It had never really been made publicly known where the SR-1 had crashed, only that it had and taken Commander Shepard with it into death. Her miraculous resurrection hadn't occurred til some two years after.

In his soul, he felt the first trembling fear that he'd been wrong all along. That there had to be...something out there. Coincidences like this never happened. He'd have dropped to his knees right then and started praying if not for the memory of his uncle telling him what an injustice it would be to start thinking of Shepard as some sort of divine entity. He'd come to find uncertainty in a lot of things, but of that, he could be sure. His uncle, who had probably stood in this very spot, breathed the air in this enclosed space countless times, knew her best. If he couldn't believe in anything else, he could believe in that.

Shakily, he sat, numb and hollow. Absently, he put the holo in his pack and lay down, unwilling or unable to think about all this...madness any more. Sleep came as a blessed release.


	16. Chapter 16

_He was choking her to death and feeling the pleasure of it like a cool balm on his tattered and broken heart. She struggled weakly and her eyes rolled back, those beautiful blue eyes that he'd dreamt of so many times, that had torn him apart with their falseness and betrayal. Just before she lost consciousness, he let off some of the pressure and waited with sadistic eagerness for her eyelids to flutter back open, for her gasping breaths to revert to something like normalcy before squeezing again, taking her to the brink of death time and time again. Her blood flowed freely from the many wounds he'd inflicted on that perfect body, that perfect face, dotting his hands and clothes with splashes of blue. It was so blue against his dusky gold-ish plates and it reminded him suddenly, painfully of his brother, the way his markings had shone out of his face, a contrast that had garnered Paulus much attention from the ladies over the years._

_His brilliant brother, dead at this female's hands, he snarled and reached down to lick her blood up into his mouth. It was thick, cloying, it seemed to burn his tongue, but nevertheless, it was like the sweetest ambrosia. Part of him, way back in his mind, clamored in a tiny voice that this was wrong, that he was better than this and he laughed, no, no he really wasn't and let that part witness in horror, torturing it as much as he was torturing her, as he leaned back in to seize some of her flesh between his teeth and tear it free, chew it with gusto and swallow it. She didn't even have the wind to scream, though the agony in her eyes was enough for the demon in him to grow fat and gleeful. His cock grew hard at the thought of violating her as he devoured her and he ripped away the thin shift she was wearing, his hand found her open and slick like a wanton whore and he grinned into her shame filled face, no longer pretty with a chunk bitten out of it and he spoke to her, and to that part of him watching with growing madness, 'Look, **see** me. This is what you made of me.'_

_He felt that voice of reason howl with terror and relished each mouthful of succulent meat as it passed his lips until the lump of organic matter below him, moving in time with his thrusts, became barely recognizable as a person. This was retribution, it was sweet and burned in him with blinding triumph and it quieted the voice of guilt, shunted it back into his hind brain. _

_But he wondered briefly why it didn't dim the fire of hate in him. No matter, his hatred would be slaked soon, surely. She still moved, she still breathed through her ruined flesh. When she finally stilled, when he let her die, the hate would go with her. And then, when Paulus was avenged, finally he would be free to join her, as it should be._

* * *

He woke with a start, feeling nauseated at the visions that haunted him. He still tasted her blood in his mouth and desperately swigged a large mouthful of water to try to get rid of it. He must be sick to dream of such things, to feel the want of it coil in his soul. And worse, he knew in his heart that he was more than capable of doing those things to her. Even at the thought of Aleia, the hate rose in him, choking in its intensity.

He fought for control, it was so hard to find, he had no balance, no unshifting rock to cling to. He pleaded with his mind, begged for reprieve from the twin titans of hate and guilt as they wrestled in his psyche. And it ebbed, but didn't abate, he was functional but was far from whole, would never again be whole. Not while that bitch still breathed. He only hoped that when the time came to end her, if he got off this rock, no,_ when_ he got off this rock, he had the restraint to do it cleanly, that he wouldn't shame himself too much and give into his baser self, which desperately desired to paint the walls with her blood and revel in her entrails. He choked off the thought with a cry through clenched teeth, forcing his heart to slow, his breath to become even and regular.

He opened his eyes and saw the blowtorch there, that's right, he had things to do. Things that would take his mind off...other things. He dressed and gathered his tools and slid the door open, only to freeze in place when it revealed a gently rumbling shaggy hillock right outside the mako. His heart tried to climb up his throat and he bit back a yell. The beast from the wreck, it had followed him. It lay curled upon itself, nose tucked tightly to tail, paws stretched out before it.

Slowly, Marcus slid the door back shut, wincing as the ungreased rails squeaked overloud as he did so. Just as it closed, he saw one lamp like eye open and watch him calmly. That eye slid shut just as sedately and he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd expected the animal to rush him, throw itself against the side of the tank. He sat back and thought about what he could do. Having that thing out there would seriously put a damper on his plans. He couldn't stay in here forever. He'd need water, he'd need to use the latrine. Maybe he could scare it away with the rifle, or kill it, if he had to.

With rifle in hand, he opened the door again by a fraction. It was still out there and stirring, waking up and he took aim at the ground near its feet. Curious, he watched it stretch, pulling back to flex forelegs before it, wiggling its stubby digits, then leaning forward to do the same with its hindlegs. Then it sat abruptly, looking about it with tilted head, blinking in the bright sunlight. Marcus breathed softly, it was now or never.

The shot rang out and the snow puffed up into the animal's face, which he swore took on an indignant scowl. The beast shook its long fur free of the white particles and yawned hugely, large canines flashing, standing and walking toward his hiding spot with an easy amble, unconcerned it seemed and he took aim again. Maybe a bullet in the backside would send it running, though now he felt a certain...reluctance for some reason. He paused as the beast started rubbing itself all along the mako, rumbling in its throat. Marcus was pretty sure he was relatively safe in the mako and in any case had a hand on the door to slam it shut if need be. He nearly started back when one golden eye, lit from within, appeared in the small aperture, locking onto him. He froze and the eye moved on. He heard the animal walk away, the pace picking up to a lope across the crunching snow. It was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He waited for a bit to make sure it wasn't coming back before resuming what he had been doing before it had so rudely interrupted him. Blowtorch in hand, he approached the plinth, looking about him with new perspective now that he knew what ship this had been. The ice shroud retreated swiftly from the fire's onslaught and he saw that it was a monument. Someone had left a monument here to the dead crew of the SR-1. A round dais with a plume of stylized fire above it, topped with a tiny version of the Normandy at its pinnacle. The whole thing was lit from within and he heard a faint hum from the bottom that told him where it's power source was. It vibrated gently as he ran his hand around the cold metal of the base as he wondered why it had been left derelict, this lost piece of history had clearly been visited at least once since it had crashed on this forgotten planet.

He was just about to go back to the mako and get Ushal when his fingers encountered rough grooves around the side of the statue. Upon closer inspection, he saw that someone had carved words, in galactic common, in the metal. He read them aloud, "Nevertheless they are heard in the still houses..."

What did it mean? He scratched his fringe in confusion and stood to get the geth. Movement out of the corner of his eye had him freezing in place. Turning his head fractionally, he espied the animal walking around the edge of some of the mako, slow and almost casual in its movements. It was between him and his shelter. He fought the welling panic and slowly drew his rifle from where it was slung across his back, wincing at the loud hissing noise it made as it unfolded in his hands.

The beast merely looked at him curiously before plopping down adjacent to the tank's hatch. It rolled onto its back and thrashed in the snow, a pleased rumble coming out of its throat. Marcus lifted his rifle, sure that he was in for the fight of his life. No shields, no armor, no medigel dispenser. All he had was his wits and an ancient rifle that had the tendency to overheat. He despaired at the thought of how terrible his odds of surviving were, then clamped that down under the determination that this animal wouldn't be the one to end him, he had so much left to do. So much...retribution to hand out.

It rolled over onto its side away from him and stilled, clearly going to sleep and he calculated the odds of firing his two or three shots and killing it before it had time to leap on him. He paused and cocked his head, it didn't seem at all interested in him, not as food anyway. On pure intuition, he started forward, the snow crunching underfoot as he made his way to the mako. Keeping his eyes firmly on that snow covered furry mound in case it moved, he edged around til the handle of the tank's door was in reach and slowly opened it, alert for trouble.

He gingerly stepped in and grabbed the geth and the gauntlet and turned to see the animal watching him through slitted eyes. Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, he pulled on the gauntlet and slotted the orb into it, "Ushal."

"Vakarian-CO, have you acquired the power source?" The geth's voice sounded weak, almost tinny.

"I've freed the monument from the ice and I'm pretty sure we have the tools to unhook the battery, but there's an...animal out there. Large, possibly dangerous." He eyed the beast as he said this, though on its back, it hardly looked dangerous.

"Has it behaved aggressively?"

"No. It watches." He shook his head as he said this, thoroughly perplexed at the animal's behavior. It acted like no predator he'd ever encountered and yet it clearly was. He shuddered as he remembered the huge canines displayed in its mouth as it had yawned.

"Vakarian-CO, based on my information regarding the behavior of large predators, it will not attack unless provoked...or hungry."

"Thanks, Ushal, that's so comforting." He wondered if sarcasm was lost on the geth. Possibly, but what did it matter.

"Vakarian-C-"

"Stop calling me that, I'm not your CO any more. I don't have a ship, I don't have a crew, I don't have-" _-anything._ He bit that last part back, trying not to whimper as his sharp teeth perforated his offending tongue to still it. "Just...just call me Marcus."

The geth continued, sounding almost reproachful, "...Marcus, I need access to that power source. My internal power is at 15% and without resources, I cannot begin to rewrite lost code."

"What happens if your power drops to zero? Will you...die?" Silence was his only answer and it spoke clearly to him of the consequences of his failure. Even if it didn't kill the geth, he would be alone on this rock. Grimacing, Marcus clenched his fist, "No. I'll get you that power."

He stepped back out into the snow, never taking his eyes off the sleeping behemoth laying in the tank's shadow. It did nothing but snore quietly at him and he felt moderately reassured. He turned to the statue and got to work, one ear trained on the soft sounds behind him. He freed the monument's power cell and saw it had convenient cables that could be converted easily to his uses. Much snipping and soldering later, he finished just as the cold was starting to really seep past the meager protection his improvised parka provided and shivering, he patched the geth into the power cell's grid.

A surge of light from within the orb told him that he'd succeeded and he sighed, gathering all the tools and Ushal and the lump of circuitry and wires that used to power the dead ship's memorial and headed back to the mako, sidling past the animal with something approaching haste. It didn't stir or snap at him as he'd feared, just shifted slightly and continued rumbling as it dreamed whatever it was that shaggy beasts dreamed about. He slid the door closed behind him gratefully, finally relaxing in the dark safety of the tank's interior.

The heater took its time heating the small enclosure and he tinkered with the geth's interface to take his mind off how numb his fingers were, how there was a large carnivore just outside his abode that may decide to eat him someday. "Ushal, did you get what you needed?"

"Yes, Marcus. I will need a few days to recharge. In the meantime, I believe I have devised a way to boost this omnitool's signal to reach the closest comm buoy."

Marcus couldn't help but feel a surge of hope at that, "How?"

"We will need to build a transmitter and a dish. I regret that I do not have hands to assist you in this task." Ushal seemed to hesitate as the lights deep within the sphere whirled and blinked, "It will take some time to gather the necessary components and even then, it may take time for our distress signal to be noticed by a passing freighter or UAF ship. "

Marcus swallowed back the rising anger to reply tightly, "How long?"

"No data available. There are too many variables." Ushal sounded almost chagrined at his inability to generate hard numbers and Marcus growled a bit in his throat, then shook it off. It wasn't the geth's fault, he knew that only too well.

"Ushal, we're going to get off this rock, I swear it. I'll get you home." Home, the idea seemed fantastical to him now. Was he able to go home? No, there was no way to explain what had happened to Paulus. He squashed the longing in his heart and told himself to be grateful that he'd have the chance to settle the score with Aleia before he met his just end. It would have to be enough. He didn't deserve more. "Tell me what I have to do."

* * *

The next weeks passed quickly, having a goal gave him some focus, often exhausting him to the point where the dreams sometimes didn't haunt him. His shadow was everpresent, watching him with solemn golden eyes as he went about his daily tasks. It got increasingly closer in proximity, burgeoning on invading his personal space, but he was fairly sure it had no designs to eat him, not that an animal could really have plans, as it were.

He was slowly adapting to the cold, he'd been on the cusp of hypothermia for so long now, it almost seemed natural to be chilled all the time. Turians weren't coldblooded like reptiles, they'd just evolved on a hot planet where the need to maintain an internal body temperature through arctic weather hadn't been necessary. But one thing that evolving on a high radiation planet had granted him was adaptability. Total adaptation was never going to be attainable so while he could function outside for hours on end, he was thoroughly grateful to whoever had thought to put a heater in the survival kit.

The dish was nearly complete, made from pieces of hull he'd managed to salvage from both wrecks and weld together piecemeal. It wasn't pretty but it would do the job or so Ushal assured him. Power was still at a premium so he tried not to 'wake' the geth too often though he sometimes did just to hear someone else's voice. Anything to anchor him, he still felt brittle, like glass.

He sat before the monument and puzzled over its inscription again, as he had many times since discovering it. The animal stalked by and he tensed as it sat nearly in arms length of him, but it only sat and washed itself, licking giant paws in unconcerned and languid strokes. There were hints of red around its mouth, it must have just hunted itself dinner. Ruefully, he wished he could go hunting for himself, nutrient paste was getting old, he'd kill to have some fresh meat. His mouth watered as he thought of steak, rare, juicy steak and he almost groaned aloud as his stomach woke up and growled at him for his cruel thoughts. Even if he managed to find and kill some prey animal, there was no guarantee that it was dextro.

He wrenched his thoughts away from that depressing thought and looked at the dais again, finally asking aloud to the glowing orb nestled at his wrist, "What does this mean, Ushal?"

"What does what mean, Marcus?" Marcus imagined a playful note in that mechanical voice and nearly smiled.

" 'Nevertheless they are heard in the still houses.' "

"It is part of an old Earth poem."

"A poem..." Marcus wondered who had put it there, indeed who had put the whole monument there. Someone who cared obviously, but an etched quote, made by some being's hand, that said whoever it had been had had a personal stake in the first Normandy, "Do you know the whole thing?"

"I do. I have a large selection of poems, songs, stories and images of artwork from many cultures in my databanks."

"Why?"

"To better understand organics, to find...commonality."

Marcus was silent for a long time as he thought about this. It was...good that the geth were trying to understand organics, maybe it would prevent another Reaper War in the future, "Do the geth have...art, or literature?"

"We understand the need to express ourselves in the abstract."

Marcus rumbled his own understanding, then tentatively asked, "Will you tell me the whole poem?"

"Nevertheless they are heard in the still houses: who has not heard them?  
They have a silence that speaks for them at night and when the clock counts.  
They say, We were young. We have died. Remember us.  
They say, We have done what we could but until it is finished it is not done.  
They say, We have given our lives but until it is finished no one can know what our lives gave.  
They say, Our deaths are not ours: they are yours: they will mean what you make them.  
They say, Whether our lives and our deaths were for peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot  
say: it is you who must say this.  
They say, We leave you our deaths: give them their meaning: give them an end to the war and a  
true peace: give them a victory that ends the war and a peace afterwards: give them their meaning.  
We were young, they say. We have died. Remember us."

Slowly, Marcus unclenched his mandibles from where they'd drawn tight to his face. He was moved, no, more than moved. His heart ached with the thought of that woman sitting here in the snow, carving the metal with a loving regard to the fallen. There wasn't a word for what he was feeling. He knew now who had written on the plinth with their own hand, had come to visit the dead in this mausoleum. He echoed softly, breath frosting on the dusk air, "They are heard..."

And yet, they hadn't been really. These men and women had been forgotten in this wasteland, but he'd never forget them, having lived with their ghosts for nearly two months now, used the bones of their cemetery to build the hope of surviving this planet and he was humbled in the face of their generosity, surely wasted on him if he didn't succeed. In his melancholy daze, he didn't notice the shifting shadow next to him until its radiating warmth flowed over his cold plates. He leaned toward the heat instinctively, then shook himself free to look, alarmed, up into a looming bestial face, with its liquid gold eyes that were at once gentle and fierce. He froze, as he had so often when his erstwhile companion did something unfathomable.

It settled its long body at his back and he resisted melting into its warmth, no matter how welcoming. The fur covered face with its long muzzle settled on its paws beside him and closed its lambent eyes with a contented sigh.

Marcus considered, this was definitely a friendly gesture. Predators don't normally nuzzle their prey, unless this thing was even more alien than he could possibly understand and with halting movements, he reached out and ran a hand through the surprisingly soft fur on its head, feeling the stiff cup of its long ears in his wind and ice chapped palm. It shifted under his hand and rumbled but otherwise accepted his caress. Dazedly, he thought, _Will wonders never cease?_

And looking back off into the distance with its howling zephyrs and windswept snow dunes, he felt acceptance of this strangeness in his heart and spoke, more to himself than the others in his company, "Well, alright then."

* * *

A/N: And that's the end of book one of Marcus and Susan's story. Hope you liked it, oh people of . Please review if you have the inclination. We authors eat reviews up, they sustain our fervor, push us to go further, go higher. But it's enough that I see this story getting lots of foot traffic. Good good. Anyway, I love you all, just thought I'd let you know, for dreaming with me for a time. Thank you.


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